Justice League: Legacies (DCAU Worm)
by AllRoadsLeadTo
Summary: For decades the world has been kept safe by living legends, Earth's mightiest heroes, legends who founded the Justice League. However, even the greatest of heroes fade with time and now the torch must be passed to a new generation.
1. Batgirl Beyond 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any DC IPs or Worm. They belong to their respective owners.

 _ **Justice League: Legacies (DCAU/Worm)**_

For decades the world has been kept safe by living legends, Earth's mightiest heroes: Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, the Manhunter, Dr. Fate, Aquaman, and the Flash. Together, they formed the Justice League and were soon joined by thousands of other heroes the world over, but years have gone by and now it is time for the next generation to take up the mantle of as the defenders of earth. This is their story.

* * *

 **Justice League: Legacies Batgirl Beyond #1**

Cover: An ebony black statue of Batman in his signature cape and cowl stands at the crest of a grassy hill while the sun sets behind it. A teenaged girl with long, curly dark hair stands next to a bush a fair distance down the hill from the statue. She holds an empty bottle in her hands and is watching a large Asian man stand in front of the statue with his arms spread wide and fire dancing in his hands. Overhead a cloud tinged orange and red by the setting sun takes the shape of a bat with its wings spread.

* * *

You hear stories about superheroes all of the time on Earth Bet. You see them on the news, heck, if you look up in the sky sometimes at night you can see the Justice League's Watchtower. If you're lucky, you can even see the local chapter of the Justice League on patrol in your city, or visit their base for a tour. Who you only rarely see are the legends, the people who stepped up in the beginning to form the Justice League and stop the greatest of those first villains: King, Marquis, Bane, Morgaine Le Fey, String Theory, the Joker, Doomsday.

Sure, you can see Wonder Woman at the major Justice League PR events with her half-mask alongside Manhunter and the Flash, or go to New York and see Superman's giant golden statue right outside the UN and Justice League Earth-based headquarters, but Aquaman rarely leaves the seas, Superman is either too busy to be seen except at a distance or missing altogether, Dr. Fate's gone, probably retired, and the last time anyone saw Batman he was being torn in half by the Siberian on live TV.

In a world with the internet, the sight of world's greatest heroes is only a few clicks of a mouse and taps of the keyboard away, but when you see them you can tell that even the most ageless of them are growing old.

But sometimes legends prove that they can last forever.

I was fourteen and walking through the Boardwalk. My mom had died only months ago. My dad could barely take care of himself, let alone me, and I had decided that I needed to get out of the house. I walked listlessly, not really paying attention to where I was going and letting my feet take me where they would.

Eventually I realized I had come to Memorial Park. It was on Captain's Hill right next to the graveyard where my mother had been buried. From here you could see most of the city, or at least the parts not blocked by the sky scrapers, and it was at the base of the mountains to the west of the city so you could see the Wayne Manor brooding in the distance in all its ancient Gothic glory over the city.

What made Memorial Park special was what had been built there in commemoration of the world's first cape. He hadn't been the first to show himself to the public, but he had been around the longest, longer than even Superman. It was a statue as dark as the blackest night, made of some sort of Tinkertech metal so that it reflected nothing. If you wanted to get poetic, it was like a hole in the world, left by the man it commemorated. Batman, a muscular man in a flowing cape and with two fins on the sides of his head, though they honestly reminded me more of cat ears than those of a bat. He had been Superman's heroic opposite, a symbol of fear, retribution and vengeance where Superman was a symbol of hope, justice and the future. Superman was the greatest hero the Earth had, with unsurpassed might and countless powers he could call upon for any situation. Batman had his wits, determination and gear. Batman had been one of the world's most important superheroes, he stood alongside people who were practically gods in the ancient Greek sense, and trained, mentored or inspired dozens, if not hundreds, of heroes, and now he was gone. Without him the other legends were drifting away it seemed.

I don't know how long I stood there looking at it, thinking about people long gone, when I noticed a large Asian man stomp up to it. He wore a metal dragon mask and left his torso exposed to the afternoon air, showing off the twisting designs of an Oriental dragon curling around his body.

It took me a moment to place him. He was Lung, a Japanese villain who'd come to Batman's city to challenge its heroes and take it from his successors. He'd openly challenged them and won, the local Justice League and the PRT had been powerless to stop him. And now he was here in Memorial Park.

Lung was soon followed by other ethnically Asian men, and some boys, all wearing green and red.

I didn't run away, and I'm still not sure why. Instead I moved behind a nearby bush and watched them gather around the statue, below which Lung stood. I could see they all held something, pipes, chains, crowbars, some handguns, I even saw a few with shotguns. Some of them had rope looped around their chest and over a shoulder.

Eventually a large enough crowd had gathered enough for Lung and he held a hand in the air, the crowd of ABB gang members falling silent at his gesture.

Then he began to speak. "The strong rule the weak. That has always been true. They do this with fear. Fear of the known and the unknown. Batman, ruled with both. Cloaking himself in mystery and striking from the shadows, keeping people from knowing how he operated or where he would attack next. And with this he managed to defeat powerful enemies, showing that they could not oppose him. His victories came from deceit and outmaneuvering his opponents, he was like a ninja of old. However, his tricks could only take him so far. Bane and the Siberian proved this.

"I do not need such things. I do not need to hide my power in order to overcome my foes. I do not need the fear of the uncertain to enforce my will. You all know what will happen to you if you defy me, and now this city does as well. Batman's memory has no place here. He is but a memory now, and memories cannot rule through fear."

Suddenly a dark shape dropped from the sky and landed in the midst of the gang with a crash. It rose up, revealing itself to be black and dark grey suit of bulky armor that stood as tall as Lung himself at seven feet. Atop its head were two small fins like cat ears. "I'm not just a memory," a deep voice said, echoing across the park. "I was just retired."

As his gang scrambled away from the man in armor, Lung threw back is head and let out deep laughter. Finally, he got himself under control and even from the distance I was at I could tell he was smiling. "After everything you've survived already, I knew you had to be out there somewhere. Neither they nor you would let yourself die like that." I could see Lung slowly but visibly growing. "A warrior like you deserves a better fate than to die like that, or to fade away in obscurity. Come, we shall duel for the fate of this city and I shall give you the death you deserve. Then this city will truly be mine."

The man in the suit chuckled with grim determination before rolling his head and shoulders. "I fought the original Bane. He had better lines." The man, Batman, dropped into a ready stance.

Lung charged, the air igniting around him as he barreled down on Batman, who stood firm. When Lung was almost there, Batman quickly ducked under Lung's arms and punched the villain in the side of the chest with a pneumatic pop as they passed each other.

Lung spun around, fire whipping at Batman's armor but unable to do anything more than scorch its exterior. "More tricks?" Lung demanded as he kicked at Batman with lightning speed and knocked him off of the scorched field that they had been fighting on and onto the asphalt path that wound through the park ten feet away.

"It's why you came," Batman replied gruffly as he rolled to his feet and tossed a canister at Lung, who tried to bat it away with more pyrokinesis. Unfortunately for him the canister exploded into a thick dark green gas which caused Lung to stagger back from it chocking. Moments later Batman leapt through the cloud only to be hit by a defensive swing by Lung and knocked to the side.

Batman charged again at the still recovering Lung. When Lung punched at him again, Batman caught his right wrist with one hand and punched his forearm with the other, triggering another pneumatic pop that reached my ears from about forty feet away. Batman quickly ducked when Lung tried to swing at him again and punched Lung's right side to another pneumatic pop before rolling and leaping away.

Lung growled in anger and I could see shining metal scales begin to emerge from his skin and cover his body. He charged at Batman again, Batman coming to meet him. When they were halfway towards each other, Lung exploded with fire, blinding me and the thugs watching as Batman leapt into the inferno.

When I could see again, Batman had been thrown twenty feet into the base of his own statue, and he was slowly picking himself up. I could tell something was wrong because he was barely moving even as Lung stalked closer.

"Are you done?" Lung demanded as he approached, his gang members cheering him on. "Get up and die on your feet, Batman."

Batman started to respond, but I heard a hacking cough come from him, and saw in the firelight all around that there was a dent in the center of his chest plate.

"Is this really it for the great Batman? The World's Greatest Detective, the Dark Knight, the Caped Crusader?" Lung stopped before him and shook his head.

Batman lunged at Lung, but before he could reach the villain, Lung kicked him into his own statue, grabbed him as he fell and tossed him back into the field. He tried to push himself back up, but stopped amid a fit of wet coughing.

Lung, now completely covered in scales, took his time walking towards the downed hero. "I can feel your anesthetics," he admitted, "unfortunately for you it isn't enough."

I was watching Batman get taken down all over again. He was going to die. I couldn't just watch him die, not after mom, but I was powerless to do anything. Something in me snapped. I looked around for something, anything that could help and I spotted an empty beer bottle lying in the grass nearby.

Not hesitating long enough to reconsider, I ran over and picked it up. Standing straight I held it behind me and threw as hard as I could. The bottle arced through the air and somehow managed to hit Lung on his left shoulder.

"Leave him alone!" I shouted at the villain who had defeated entire superhero team and Batman himself just moments ago. The gang members looking on fell quiet at my outburst, waiting for their boss's reaction.

He looked at me in surprise, hesitating for just a second out of shock.

In that moment, Batman pushed himself off the ground and hit Lung in the abdomen with both fists, setting off two more pneumatic pops as anesthetics were injected. Lung quickly grabbed Batman's hands in grips hard enough to dent the metal, before more gas canisters detonated at Batman's waist. As Lung backed away coughing he threw Batman to the side again.

In the distance I heard the growl of a motorcycle, someone was coming.

Lung looked to Oni Lee and gestured. "The Justice League… is coming… stop them from interfering," he ordered the teleporter, who bowed slightly before gesturing to the other thugs and barking orders to them in a language I didn't understand. A moment later Oni Lee had collapsed into ash and several large groups moved off to delay the heroes.

I had to buy time for them to get there and help Batman. I looked around frantically and saw a twig. I ran over, picked it up and threw it, but Lung's fires burnt it to charcoal and ash without him even noticing.

He stomped over towards Batman, but I could see him visibly start to sway on his feet but he continued towards Batman, who had managed to get on his knees but was audibly gasping.

"You…will…die…Batman," Lung spat out as he staggered closer to Batman, his scales gradually receding back beneath his skin.

"I…don't…die," Batman retorted between pained gasps as he slowly straightened.

Lung grabbed for Batman, but he managed to knock the villain's hands to the side the push him face first into the dirt. Lung started to pick himself up, his movements heavy and slow. Batman used his right hand to pry open a compartment on his waist and pulled out a syringe, which he jammed into a scaleless spot on Lung's back and depressed the top with another pop. Lung struggled for a few seconds more before collapsing to the ground.

The ABB gang and I watched in silence as Batman stood, pain evident with every motion and breath, before he stepped back and dropped a canister on top of Lung. As soon as it hit his unconscious back, it exploded into a mass of foam that stuck Lung to the ground, covering his back and arms.

Batman slowly turned his head to look at the assembled gang that had been watching the fight and I followed his gaze as well, seeing it momentarily settle on the ABB's other parahuman, the teleporting suicide bomber Oni Lee. None of them did more than look on in stunned silence.

"This… is my city," Batman declared. "The League is on their way, you can't win."

The spell broke. "Get him!" one of the thugs ordered. A dozen of the remaining thugs brought up their guns, but then more green clouds exploded into being in front of encircling gang members.

They stumbled away coughing as sounds of fighting drew closer.

Batman just stood there and watched as clouds of gas and smoke drifted across the park.

He looked at me through the smoke, still standing there as the sun started to set behind him and his statue, and said to me, "Thank you."

"Um…a-any time, Batman," I stuttered.

Batman gave a hacking cough before shaking his head. "What you did… was brave… reckless, but brave. Good job." He coughed wetly again.

"Um… you should get that looked at…" I warned him.

He managed a grim laugh. "I'm sure Armsmaster will say the same thing."

We remained standing there with nothing but the whistling of the wind, the omnipresent background noise of the city, and the distant sounds of fighting for what seemed like forever, but was probably just a few minutes at most. Eventually we heard the roar of a motorbike and Armsmaster himself pulled up on the burnt grass next too Batman and Lung, with Velocity appearing beside them a moment later.

Armsmaster, leader of the local Justice League chapter, climbed off his bike, his mouth set in a scowl and though his visor covered his eyes I could tell he was glaring at Batman. "What the hell possessed you to put that thing on –" He shot me a look before continuing and a more level tone. "Just wearing that could have killed you, could still kill you!"

Batman shook his head, otherwise not moving. "The city needed Batman… needed the symbol."

"Dammit. When Bar – let alone Superman or Wonder Woman, they're going to tear me apart for letting you do something so reckless." Armsmaster sighed and shook his head.

Batman let out another laugh. " _You_ were -" He coughed and Armsmaster set his hand on Batman's arm. "You were worse than Nightwing or Red Robin ever were."

"Times have changed, Batman."

"Not enough."

The police and the PRT arrived minutes later and took Lung away before asking for my account. Armsmaster helped Batman into a PRT ambulance and after the police helped me call him, my dad arrived to pick me up as well.

I saw him rush up to me with a mixture of worry and relief on his face, his glasses and large eyes lending a touch of surprise to the mixture. "Taylor, I'm so glad you're alright," he cried out as he wrapped his arms around me. "What were you thinking?"

"I had to help him…" I told him.

"Who?" Dad asked.

"Batman." On the way back, I told him everything that happened.

"That…that was incredibly reckless," he finally said when I had finished. "Brave, but reckless. You could have been killed."

"Sorry, dad. I won't do that again."

"I should hope not, it'd be terrible if he broke out after all of that," my dad said.

"Yeah, especially after all that work I put in to bringing him in."

He gave me a look.

"It was a joke." He pulled to a stop at an intersection close to our house and shook his head.

"At least you'll have quite the story for Emma," he said after a moment.

"Yeah…" I replied, trailing off. "She… doesn't want to be my friend anymore." Ever since my first day back from summer camp, she'd been avoiding me, like she didn't want to talk to me. I'd hoped that whatever was wrong would get better, but ever since our first day of high school she had begun to say hurtful remarks, calling me weak and letting her new friend Sophia push me around, but I couldn't tell my dad that, he was friends with her father Allen Barnes.

He frowned. "Oh. I'm sorry to hear that Taylor." He went quiet.

I was quiet too and we rode in silence for several minutes.

"Well…" he finally said, "you're a hero for what you did." He glanced at me before adding, "Not the kind with powers, but that kind that goes above and beyond. Even if Emma isn't a friend anymore, I can't imagine people not wanting to be friends with the kind of person who stands up to someone like Lung."

I found a small smile tugging at my lips at the thought. He was right, I was a hero, even if only for a moment, and nothing Emma or Sophia said or did could take that away from me.

After everything that happened, we went home and had a quiet dinner. Even though my father had been depressed since my mother's death, he was different, more energetic that night.

During the meal I asked, "Can I take self-defense classes? Like karate or krav maga?"

He looked up at me skeptically.

I shrugged. "It'd help me keep safe," I explained. "I'm not about to go out and fight crime or anything."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Really, Dad. I'm not."

"Okay, but I don't want you doing anything reckless just because you think you know how to fight."

"Thanks, Dad! I won't."

The next day was quiet, and I eagerly watched the news. The reporters and discussion panels were going wild over the reappearance of Batman to take down Lung when he'd been able to defeat entire super hero team previously. I was elated when they mentioned that an unpowered girl had tried to distract Lung, even though they didn't use my name and most called it "brave but foolish."

However, Batman never made an appearance at the Justice League's press conference and Armsmaster cited 'health issues' as the reason. I remembered what he had said to Batman after arriving, and how Batman had to be taken away in an ambulance. I remembered his coughing.

After an hour, I couldn't let the thought slide away, so I looked up the local Justice League's phone number (which was apparently the same as the local PRT's) and called them. It took several minutes to navigate their menu but I eventually reached a person on the other end.

"Hello, how may we help you?" he asked in a bored voice.

"I was the girl how helped Batman last night, Taylor Hebert," I told him, "he didn't look good and the news isn't saying anything. Is he okay?"

The man was silent for a moment before letting out a sigh. "Well, your number checks out. No, from what I heard he's not. His power armor was hard on his heart on top of the beating he received, and he's pretty old as it is. Him coming out of retirement was already pretty unexpected, and for good reason."

I couldn't think of anything to say, but instead made a small sounding, "Oh."

"Yeah…. You want to talk to Armsmaster? He was one of Batman's protégés so he'll be able to tell you more."

"Sure. Thanks," I replied.

"No problem," he said before transferring my call to Armsmaster.

After about half a minute, he picked up. "Miss Hebert?"

Even after everything that had happened last night, I was still awed at speaking to a prominent hero, even if it was only over the phone. When I realized that I hadn't answered, I quickly said, "Yes, hi. Thanks for answering."

"After you helped Batman, I can afford to take some time to answer your call," he replied. "Tom said you were worried about Batman."

"Yes, he said he wasn't in good shape," I replied with concern.

Armsmaster grunted. "I spent years with him. Personally, I think he's too stubborn to die," he stated. "However…" he drew out the pause for several seconds, "he's one of the oldest heroes and he's not getting any younger. I'll let him know you called, but I don't think he's going out in costume again. At least, not if I or the others have any say in the matter."

"Thank you," I replied and we said our good byes before hanging up.

I sat quietly for a before getting up and going for a walk. I wandered the city for almost an hour before I found myself back at Memorial Park once again. It was still taped off as a crime scene, but I could still see the black statue at the top, Batman in his eternal vigil over Gotham.

In the following week I didn't hear back from either Armsmaster or Batman, but on the morning of the seventh day I woke up to see a piece of sharpened metal in the familiar stylized shape of a bat sticking up from the window sill of my room. I opened my window and looked around for any other sign of who left it, even though I knew I wouldn't find any.

That morning I went down to breakfast with a smile on my face and something more than a souvenir clutched in my hand, a symbol. Just as I was sitting down with my dad to have eggs and toast for breakfast, the doorbell rang. Letting my dad set down the plates, I went to the door, uncertain who it could be at this hour.

When I opened the door I saw tall, old man wearing an expensive looking black suit with a grey undershirt. He had a wrinkled and weathered face topped with close cut white hair and he looked at me with piercing grey eyes. He shifted the cane he was holding to his left hand and held out his right. "Hello Miss Hebert, my name's Bruce Wayne. Sorry for coming by so early."


	2. The Last Meeting & Batgirl Beyond 2

Replies to Reviews: For this chapter I'm going to be trying a concept I have for this, where I describe what the cover of the 'issue' would be if this were an actual comic. Unfortunately I'm not an artist.

Tel Janin Amon: Thank you, I hope the characterization holds up here as well.

mr I hate znt nobles kill em: The Justice League is very close to their DCAU counterpart in terms of outlook, and have been around since 1960. Take from that what you will. Kill Orders and the Birdcage do exist, though Superman and other members of the Justice League don't like the idea of killing and make sure that people sent to the Birdcage still have access to appeals where possible. They have access to teleportation after all.

Cid-McConroy: Thank you! I have no problem with it being added. Also, this chapter and subsequent ones will start showing more than just Bartgirl's story.

apeljohn: Thank you! This chapter includes another glimpse into how these settings have blended together.

Also, it is kind of funny. Imagine him dressed as Robin and trying to grow out his beard as a teenager.

* * *

 _ **Justice League: Legacies**_

In a special issue, after forty-one years the seven founding members of the Justice League meet together for the last time in **The Last Meeting** , and in the attached **Batgirl Beyond #2** an offer is made…

* * *

 **The Last Meeting Special Issue**

Cover: A dimly lit room with a circular table and in the center of the table there's an opening. Seven chairs are positioned around the table, each one with a part of a costume on or near it. Batman's cowl hangs from one, Superman's cape from another, the Manhunter's cape hangs from a third and a fourth has Aquaman's trident propped up against it. For the other three, one has Dr. Fate's golden helmet resting in front of it, its two eyeholes dark; Wonder Woman's tiara and bracelets rest in front of another, and the Flash's winged pan helmet rests in front of a third. The only light source for the room, aside from faint light that comes up from the gap in the middle of the table, is an open doorway with light spilling through. Standing in the doorway is a man wearing a green button up shirt and blue jeans. He is half turned to look back into the room and one hand rests on the doorframe.

+JLL+

 _Eight years ago…_

It was small, simple room. In its center was a round O-shaped table with seven seats arranged as equidistant points in a circle. Each chair had a different symbol, designating to whom it belonged. The gap in the middle of the table had holographic projectors set into the edges of the table itself and the floor directly underneath it, leaving the opening for a thick window looking down on the Earth far below. The room's walls were Spartan, bare and dimly lit by the light that drifted through the window in the floor. The room itself was circular in shape, with one door leading to the rest of the space station and air vents on the floor for the air recycling systems. If one looked, one could see that dust had settled on the room's surfaces.

The door slid open with a soft hiss, revealing an old man wearing a black suit with a grey shirt underneath and sitting in a wheelchair. Behind him stood a statuesque beauty with an athletic body, olive skin and raven hair. She was wearing a golden tiara with a red five pointed star set in its center, silver bracelets, a red leather cuirass with gold detailing including an eagle with its wings spread across her chest, a gold belt, blue shorts with white five pointed stars, and red knee high boots with white detailing. On her belt were a sheathed sword and a golden lasso.

The man's eyes took in the dark room as dim lights turned on over each of the seven seats.

"Someone should have swept in here," he stated.

"It's not that bad, Bruce," the woman replied.

Bruce rolled his wheelchair forward until it was beside the closest chair, one with a yellow lightning bolt in front of a white circle with a red border. He leaned out of his chair slightly and swept his finger across the seat. He looked at the dust on his finger, and then turned a meaningful look back at her.

The woman rolled her eyes as she followed him in. "Alright, fine. I'll have the place dusted later." She set a hand on his shoulder. "The others will be here soon."

Bruce nodded and his gaze travelled across the room again. They were silent for a moment before he finally said, "We should have done this at the old table."

The woman sighed. "I think that might have been better." She let silence fall again, complete except for the sounds of their breathing and the faint humming of the station. "Jay would have drunk all your whiskey."

Bruce barked out a laugh. "He would have tried. I have a lot."

"First off, I'm not that bad," a voice behind them said, "and second, I totally could." Bruce and the woman turned to see the newcomer standing in the doorway. He wore skintight clothing that fit snuggly against his lean frame aside from his wide brimmed pan helmet with golden wings sticking up from the sides of its top. His shirt was bright red with a large yellow lightning bolt down its center, he wore a neutral grey belt, his pants were light blue, and on his feet were bright red boots the same hue as his shirt. For a moment his face was a blur before it resolved into that of an aged and weathered face with deep laugh lines and crow's feet. White hair could be seen from under his helmet. He stepped into the room and nodded to the two who had arrived before him. "Bruce, Diana."

"Jay," Diana replied, "I didn't expect you so soon. For the world's fastest speedster you always seem to find a reason to be late."

Jay shrugged. "I don't like waiting." He moved over to his chair next to where Bruce was positioned and frowned. "Someone should have dusted in here. Bruce was right we should have done this at the old table." He sighed. "I miss that old table. You remember when we got that?"

"You mean when we had to sneak into Bruce's dank cave to hold our meetings?" Diana asked, nostalgia coloring her voice. "We wanted to change the world back then…"

"I'd say we succeeded," Bruce replied.

"That we did," Jay agreed.

They let a comfortable quiet settle in for a time.

"I remember the time Dick tried to sneak in," Diana finally said. "He wanted to see what our meetings were like."

"He forgot I could see through walls," the next newcomer said. He wore a blue bodysuit with a yellow belt, and a thigh length red cape hung from his shoulders. In the center of his chest was a stylized red 'S' over a gem-like yellow pentagon with a red border. He had jet black hair, blue eyes and a timeless face unbent and unweathered by age. He was one of the few people who could actually pull off a cape, in part due to his sheer presence.

"Yeah, I thought you trained them better than that," Jay teased Bruce.

"It's not Bruce's fault," Diana protested. "After all, Dick was a bit of a bird-brain back then."

Jay, Diana and the newcomer laughed, and even Bruce's mouth twitched.

Eventually Diana looked to the newcomer as he made his way to his own seat, which was indicated by a copy of the symbol on his chest. "So, Clark, how are you? You haven't been to the Watchtower or any of the League bases recently."

Clark sat down in his chair and slowly let out a breath, careful not to do more than frost over the top of the table in front of him. Even that was a bad sign to the others. "I'm handling as best as I can. I just… a part of me never really thought that she'd ever really be gone, even after Ma and Pa. It's like part of my life just isn't there anymore…"

Bruce rolled over to Clark and set his hand on Clark's right forearm.

Clark smiled and set his left hand over Bruce's. His eyes looked into and through Bruce briefly. "Looks like you'll be back on your feet in no time," he eventually said.

"That will be a relief," Bruce replied. "… You'll get better too. Eventually. Don't try and throw yourself into this just to get away from it."

Clark made a small smile. "I won't. I'm busy enough as it is." His eyes stared through the window to the Earth below. "Honestly, I don't know how you managed everything, heroing, business, family."

Bruce scoffed. "You have it easy, Clark. That's what being a grandparent means."

"Yeah, and you have super speed on top of that," Jay added after moving over to Clark's other side. "Take it from me: grandkids love to get taken to the other side of the world for ice cream."

"It's good to know you're not abusing your power," Diana deadpanned.

"Hey! It's for a good cause," Jay objected in good humor with a grin on his face.

"Pampering grandchildren is always a good cause," a deep male voice agreed from the entrance. He was tall with long blond hair and a well-groomed beard that was worn as long as the rest of his hair, all peppered with strands of white. He wore a shirt of orange scales, a gold belt with a stylized capital alpha as the belt buckle, green leggings and a trident over his shoulder. His left hand was a wicked looking harpoon-like hook. The man's eyes twinkled as he looked around at those who had arrived before him. "Of course, I imagine Bruce has more than us with how many children he adopted in one way or another over the years."

"Hah! Too true, how many Robins have you had over the years? Eight? Twelve?" Jay asked.

"Are we counting Spoiler?" Diana asked. "She was a Robin for a while."

"What about Barbara?" Clark asked teasingly, causing Bruce to frown.

"Ooh, best not to bring one of his lady loves up in front of an ex," Jay replied from where he leaned against one of the chairs and safely out of reach of both Diana and Bruce.

Bruce and Diana sent flat glares his way, and Jay returned Bruce's glare with a smirk.

"You can't intimidate me anymore _old man_."

Bruce continued to glare. "I'm getting out of this chair in two months."

Jay continued to meet his eyes for several more seconds before quickly moving around the table towards the man in the orange scale shirt. "So, Arthur, how've you been?"

Clark, Arthur and Diana chuckled at the sight.

"Unfortunately I've been finding less and less free time," Arthur replied. "Alan's expansions have attracted immigration, and Toybox has opened negotiations for locating their base of operations there. That's in addition to Atlantean politics, international diplomacy and oil drilling talks. It's rare I find time to go gallivanting off to fight villains these days. Not to mention that fact that it could easily cause an international incident since I'm a head of state. At least Diana's just an ambassador."

"I ran, and still run, one of the largest international corporations in the world, and I found time," Bruce remarked in a voice as dry as the Sahara.

Arthur grunted. "Not all of us are as capable as you, it would seem," he replied.

"Oliver did it too," Clark added.

Arthur shot him a mock glare.

"I don't think a single member of the younger generation is running their own corporation or country," Jay remarked, disappointment coloring his voice.

Diana frowned. "I don't have the exact statistics, but about one in five of our members not working with the PRT or a local equivalent are running a small business. Nothing big though."

"How come none of your apprentices ever did anything like that?" Arthur asked Bruce with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, Colin's a super genius Tinker isn't he?" Jay added.

"A very serious young man," Diana commented, "just like you, Bruce."

"And didn't he take after you in other ways," Jay continued, "like that stick up his butt?"

"When I met him I remembered thinking how incredibly arrogant he seemed," Arthur said. "He was worse than Booster Gold in his early years."

"He's grown out of it," Bruce replied, "some."

"I'm glad to hear that," another voice added, this time belonging to a green-skinned and red-eyed humanoid wearing blue shorts, red straps going from each of his shoulders and down to his belt so as to cross each other over his chest, and a blue cape with a collar and attached via a silver chain.

Beside him was a weathered man with grey hair and wearing comfortable shoes, blue jeans and a green button up shirt. His hard blue eyes swept over the room.

Diana was the first to speak. "Hello, J'onn," she said to the green-skinned man. She looked at the other man. "Hello, David. It's been a while."

David sighed and nodded. "I know Diana." He took a moment to look around the room, taking in the familiar sights before making his way to the seat he knew well. Marking it was the symbol of a golden helmet that was solid save for two glowing eyeholes. He eased into his seat and looked around the quiet room. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize for anything, David," Clark replied.

"We all understand it wasn't your fault," Diana agreed.

"You say that like it's supposed to make me feel better," David replied.

"Don't let it overshadow all the good you've done, David," J'onn replied as he found his own seat. "You're a good man, and a great hero."

David shook his head, unwilling to look up at his companions. "Not anymore. I'm retired from active duty, and I plan to stay that way."

They were all silent, thinking about the past.

"I'm retiring, too," Bruce finally said. At Diana's look he elaborated, "Five years ago Bane broke my back, and just two months ago I nearly died to the Siberian. I'm old, slow, frail. My time's over."

"Bruce…" Clark started to say before trailing off.

Bruce met the eyes of Clark, Diana and J'onn in turn. "You three are like gods, benevolent gods, but still gods sitting up in your ivory tower and passing judgement upon us mortals. You've always needed someone to keep you grounded, to keep you from going too far. I can't do that anymore." Diana started to speak and he held up a hand. "It has to be someone who can keep up with you out there, even just a little. I'm too old for that, too battered. Tim's a good man, and he's as good a successor as I can hope for to fill the role, what with Oliver being almost as old as me and Dick about to have his sixty-first birthday. I may not belong up here anymore, but I can still watch with my feet planted on the ground. And if Tim isn't enough, I have my ways. Right now, I can do more good as Bruce Wayne, who can spend the twilight years of his life making sure WayneCorp money goes to putting an end to the sources of desperation that lead to crime." Bruce took a circular communicator out of his coat pocket and put it on the table.

No one said anything, the station's hum being the only sound for those without super hearing.

Eventually Arthur spoke. "I don't believe I'll be able to contribute anything to the League either, though I'll remain a reserve member should the need arise. I've got some fighting left in me yet."

David shook his head. "I don't think I can contribute anything at this point. Even with everything that happened, I think I only really started living my life after I stopped being a full time hero." He chuckled ruefully. "I think I want to live a normal life, while I have the chance. I'm resigning from reserve membership as well; though if you ever truly need me don't hesitate to call. Not that I expect you'll need me."

Everyone's gaze shifted to Jay expectantly. He shrugged. "Sorry to inconvenience you, but I'm sticking around as long as I can run. I may be a frail old man, but I can still manage that. Maybe even punch a bad guy or two, if my bones aren't aching because a storm's coming"

"I imagine you could outpace a storm," Diana remarked with a dry voice, "even at a walk."

"Nah, my power only works when I'm running," Jay replied before turning a searching look on her. "Of course, you should know that by now. Memory failing you, you old crone?"

Diana laughed. "You wish, Jay."

"She's the real Diana," Bruce said. "I never would have come in here if she weren't."

"I can confirm that," J'onn agreed.

"As can I," Clark said. "It's annoying that we have to take care that none of us are body doubles or mind controlled."

"Would you rather be taken over by a space starfish? Again?" Arthur asked, amused.

"Or replaced by a robot double while fighting your evil twin in another dimension?" Jay asked. "Not that J'onn had the chance, but the rest of us did."

"I still regret that missed opportunity," J'onn deadpanned.

"You should, that's the sort of stuff that makes this life exciting," Jay replied.

"Who was behind that anyway? Gorilla Grod? String Theory? Lex Luthor?" Arthur asked.

"It was Lex Luthor," Bruce replied. "Gorilla Grod tried to mind control President Bush and String Theory was the one to threaten to knock the moon out of orbit."

"She was rather shocked when I went to hold the moon in place," Clark said, a slight smirk on his face.

"Showoff," Bruce retorted.

"To be fair, he wouldn't have had too if Jay weren't so slow," David replied.

"Slow! She had Deathstroke and Professor Zoom, along with a bunch of mooks!" Jay objected in mock outrage. "I'd like to see you do better, old timer!"

"As I recall, I _did_ do better," David replied with a smirk.

"Yeah, well your powers are even more ridiculous than Clark's or J'onn's," Jay retorted. "Cheap, cheating… chipmunk."

"Chipmunk?" Diana asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Let's see you come up with an alliteration that fit off that top of your head, princess," Jay shot back with a smile.

"You're a speedster, you should be able to think quickly," Clark replied.

"His power can't compensate for everything," Bruce informed him.

"Ouch, Bruce, that _hurt_ ," Jay said, holding a hand over his chest with a pained expression on his face.

"Are you a pyrokinetic now, Bruce?" J'onn asked in his characteristic level voice. "Because as the kids say, that was a wicked burn."

"'As the kids say?'" Diana asked.

"Look who's showing their age now," Clark said.

Jay sped over to J'onn and patted him on the shoulder. "Don't take it too hard buddy, we all know how hard it is to be hip. Here's my advice: parachute pants and gold chains."

" _No_ ," Diana told Jay, "don't suggest that. That time you convinced him to visit the president while dressed for a disco was bad enough."

"I thought he pulled off the afro," David commented.

"Don't remind me," Bruce said.

"It was still better than when Clark decided to grow out his hair and wear black," J'onn replied.

"I should never have taken that bet," Clark stated. "I can see through walls and I still don't know how Question pulled that off."

"He had Zatana help him cheat," Bruce explained.

"I may have helped as well," J'onn added.

Everyone else looked at J'onn in surprise.

"I thought it would be funny."

"Well, it was," Jay replied with a laugh. "I don't think I'll ever forget that, no matter how hard Clark tries to sweep it under the rug."

"He looked so 'dark and edgy,'" Diana added before breaking down into laughter.

Clark scowled while the other burst out into laughter as well, and after a few seconds he cracked a smile and started laughing too. For a few minutes they laughed with each other, the time forgotten as they reminisced together.

Eventually, Bruce said, "I'll be holding a Christmas charity event in a few months. There will be a dinner for the foundation and we can meet for drinks afterwards."

"Sounds good," Jay said. "Can't wait to see all four in the same room instead of just Diana."

Arthur shook his head sadly, his smile fading. "I'm sorry, but I can't make the dinner. I'll be too busy. I might be able to slip out for a bit though."

"And I'll have to host the winter solstice event in the Watchtower as well as be present for the one back home," Diana replied. "Most of the preparations should be done by then though."

"I thought Albert was handling that since you wouldn't let me," Jay said.

"I've learned better than to let you, J'onn or Melissa be in charge of organizing events like that," Diana replied dryly. She looked back at Bruce. "I should be able to slip out for a drink."

"I'll try as well, but you know how it is," Clark added.

"Yes, if something comes up I'll have to cancel as well," J'onn agreed.

"Unlike them, I don't have those kinds of obligations anymore," David said. "It was nice seeing you all again, and even if we aren't all there I'd like to do this again."

"Don't worry, after I show up fashionably late we'll talk trash about them behind their backs," Jay told David. "I have so much gossip to dish, it would make a paparazzi's head explode."

"I'll know what you tell them," J'onn warned.

Jay replied as befitting a man of his age and stature, by sticking out his tongue at one of the Earth's mightiest heroes.

"Really, Jay?" Clark asked. "Aren't you a little old for that?"

"When kids act like that it's because they're young and don't know better," Jay explained. "I've earned the right to act like this, and you can't take that away from me."

"I do-" Clark started to say before he stopped and frowned.

"What is it?" Diana asked, leaning forward.

"Earthquake in Malaysia," J'onn replied, standing up.

Jay stretched and took to his feet. "Right."

"We'll take a shuttle and meet you there," Diana said as she stepped back from the table.

Arthur sighed. "I suppose I should head back to Atlantis then. Perhaps I'll visit a few familiar faces on the way out. Good luck."

"Thanks," Diana replied as she followed J'onn and Clark on their way out.

"I'll see whoever shows up at the Christmas party later," Jay said. "'til next time."

"Yes, see you later," David replied with a wave as the four disappeared from sight. He sighed. "Mind if I join you, Arthur?"

"Not at all," Arthur replied as he waited for David to stand. "It'll be good to catch up. Bruce?"

Bruce shook his head. "I've got work to do, children to chase off my lawn." Then he wheeled his way out of the room and towards the teleporter. "See you Christmas evening."

"Good luck, and see you then," David said as Bruce disappeared around the door frame. After a second he turned to Arthur. "Well, do you know if Myrrdin is around here somewhere?"

"I'm not sure, but apparently Albert is," Arthur replied.

David started towards the door before pausing to frown. "Which Albert?"

Arthur shrugged. "I'm not sure. Let's find out."

"Yes, let's."

The two walked out of the room and the door shut behind them with a quiet hiss, the lights turning off to plunge the room into darkness save for the light coming through the window in the floor.

* * *

 **Batgirl Beyond #2**

Cover: A teenaged girl with long dark, curly hair stands looking up at the sky with her green eyes, her mouth set in a determined line. In her left hand is clutched one of Batman's throwing bats. Behind her looms a blue tinted skyscraper with a large illuminated 'W' at the top. On either side of the building stretches a dark cityscape. Overhead hangs light grey clouds save for one patch of darkness that takes the shape of a stylized bat with its wings spread in flight.

+JLL+

 _Now…_

"Hello Miss Hebert, my name's Bruce Wayne. Sorry for coming by so early."

I stared at the well-dressed old man in shock. Bruce Wayne was the billionaire owner and CEO of WayneCorp, one of the largest technology corporations in the world and based in Gotham city. At night you could see the WayneCorp Global headquarters with its stylized 'W' logo looming over downtown across from the Medhall building. And he was standing in my doorway, apologizing for coming by so early and offering me his hand. Even after meeting Batman, I wasn't sure what to do, or if this was even real and not just some dream. He was someone who was incredibly important and powerful, even if not in the same way as the heroes of the Justice League, and you could feel it. Bruce Wayne had a commanding presence in his old age, as if to say that he'd seen the best and worst this city had to offer and as the head of one of the world's biggest corporations and one of the biggest charities, you'd better listen to what he had to say.

It was a little intimidating, is what I'm saying.

I felt the throwing bat in my hand and tightened my grip on it. He was intimidating in his own way, and completely unexpected, but I'd faced down Lung. Even if it was only to throw a bottle and a stick at him, I'd done it to help Batman and if it hadn't worked or Batman hadn't won Lung could have hurt me, or worse.

Compared to that, some rich old man with a cane didn't seem so bad.

I smiled and took his hand, meeting his firm grip as his eyes seemed to twinkle. "Hello, Mister Wayne. Mind if I ask what you're doing here?"

"Not at all, Miss Hebert," he replied with a smile. "However, I don't know if the front step is the best place for this." With that he gestured to where he was standing and I realized that I was standing in the doorway and blocking him from entering.

"Um. Sure," I said, backing up and letting him through.

"Taylor, who's at the door?" my dad asked as he walked out of the kitchen and froze.

Bruce Wayne smiled at my father and offered his hand, "Hello, Daniel. It's been a while."

Dad looked at Bruce Wayne with wide eyed shock exaggerated by his thick glasses. He quickly shook his head clear and shook our guest's hand. "Bruce Wayne? It's a pleasure to see you again," he said, clearly flummoxed by what was happening.

"Likewise, Daniel," Bruce Wayne replied as he stepped clear of the door so that I could close it behind him. As I closed it, I saw a black sedan parked in the street in front of our house. I turned back to see Dad lead Bruce Wayne into our kitchen.

"Well, we were just about to have breakfast... Do you want anything?" Dad asked as he walked over to where his coffee pot was filled with freshly brewed coffee.

"A cup of coffee would be nice, but I always get up early so I've already eaten," he replied.

Dad got him a cup and poured coffee into it. "Mind if I ask why you're here?"

"Not at all," Bruce Wayne said as he took the offered cup and sat down in an extra chair we had. "I'm here about your daughter. She's an intelligent young woman."

"This has to do with last week," I said.

He smiled and nodded. "Yes, you've demonstrated courage and initiative, valuable traits in any career path." At that I saw his eyes flicker to my left hand and the throwing bat.

"How exactly did you hear about her?" my dad asked with concern in his voice. "Her involvement isn't public knowledge."

"The Justice League doesn't usually get involved in dealing with witnesses, but I've been working with them for years and when one of them pointed out a promising young girl I had to investigate," he explained. "They could offer you witness protection if you feel the need, but the PRT and the Police can handle that in most cases. I'm here to offer you something else: an opportunity."

"An opportunity for what?" I asked before my dad could speak.

"I find in my old age I could use a part time assistant, an intern to help me, go for this, go for that," he explained. "It needs to be someone with integrity, intelligence and courage, and not just because I only pick the best. I work with and meet important people, including regional and occasionally global leaders of the Justice League. If I'm going to pick someone to help me with that, it can't just be anyone.

"From what I've seen you have all three traits I'm looking for, though perhaps throwing a bottle at a high level brute isn't exactly strong evidence of intellect." I blushed in embarrassment at his dry remark. "It isn't glamorous, and it's hard, but I think you'll find working with the owner of a major technology company and one of the League's strongest private supporters to be a positive experience for you. After all, we have a variety of scholarship programs to help people, including employees."

It was a lot to take in, for both me and my dad. It all seemed so sudden, and my mind spun but it latched onto one fact: he was doing this because someone in the Justice League wanted him to help me. He'd looked at my throwing bat. He'd known it was there or he'd seen it in my hand when my dad apparently hadn't. He'd shown up the same morning as the throwing bat had appeared on my windowsill.

 _Batman wants Bruce Wayne to give me an internship._

After actually forming that thought, I realized how strange it sounded, but it was the only explanation for this. He'd had Robins over the years, Armsmaster used to be one, so did that mean he thought I had what it took? He'd been able to fight, but seeing him being taken away from the park in an ambulance made me think that he'd have trouble now. And besides, I didn't have any powers anyways. There was no way some teenage girl with no powers could have what it took to be a real super hero. Maybe he just wanted to help out as thanks.

That made the most sense.

Even if I wasn't going to be a super hero, having an internship at WayneCorp offered to my because Batman asked him too wasn't something I was going to turn down. Especially if it gave me the chance, however slim, to actually meet him in person.

Dad started to speak, but I interrupted him again, "Yes!" At Bruce Wayne's amused looked I continued, "I'd like to take your internship."

"It is a good opportunity," my dad agreed. "Though, I'm a bit uncomfortable about the idea of the Justice League telling you who she is despite her being a witness."

"I understand," Bruce Wayne said, "and I'm sorry for being so abrupt about this, but since I already knew I thought it best to continue and extend my offer." He paused before adding with a wry voice, "Though, I won't stop you if you feel like complaining about him."

" _Him_?" I asked, excited. It _was_ Batman!

Bruce Wayne shrugged and sipped his coffee. He hummed and looked at Dad again. "Mind if I add some milk to this?"

"Oh, not at all," Dad replied before opening the fridge and taking out a milk jug. "Here, let me." Bruce Wayne let Dad pour some milk into his cup and took another sip while Dad put the milk away.

"Thank you," he said to Dad.

"You're welcome," my dad politely replied. "If the Justice League asked for this, I suppose it's safe for her…"

"I won't let her get in a situation where she's in over her head," Bruce Wayne assured him. "After all, _I'm_ not a super hero, so why should my assistance go looking for trouble?"

"Right," my dad agreed as I had to suppress a grin for some reason I wasn't quite sure about.

"However," Bruce Wayne said, standing up and facing me as he did so, "I must warn you that I am a difficult task master. You may have been recommended to me but I accept nothing short of excellence from all who work for me."

"I think I can handle it," I told him.

"Very good then, Miss Taylor Hebert," he said as he offered me his hand. "Welcome to my world."

I took his hand and shook it.

The next day I made my way to the WayneCorp building. It was a Sunday, but when he'd offered physical training for people employed I decided to fill out the paperwork as quickly as possible. Apparently they used the same equipment that they sold to the Justice League, so I'd be able to use the same equipment that Red Robin and Armsmaster were using. I didn't know if I'd end up using it much, but I really wanted to see it and get a chance to try it.

My dad and I went to fill out the paperwork and were taken to a small office where the lawyer, named Phil, apparently knew my dad and helped us out. It took a while, but as soon as my dad and I were done Phil led us to the security office and I was issued my own ID card for security and Dad was given a guest pass for the day. My ID badge had my picture, was black and had a blue bar on the side with bold white letters spelling "Intern" inside the bar. My dad's badge was white with "Guest" spelled in bold black lettering.

As we turned to leave the security office I saw a man standing in the doorway. He wore a grey suit with a white undershirt and black shoes. His hair was black with salt and pepper white and grey specks. In his left hand was a folder. His piercing blue eyes took me in and he smiled. "So, you're Bruce's new intern," he said and stepped forward. "Hi, I'm Richard Grayson, but you can call me Dick. Everyone else does, sooner or later." He grinned at his bad joke and one of the security guards audibly groaned.

"Really, sir?" the guard asked.

Dick, it really did seem appropriate already, looked at the guard and said, "Yes, why so Sirius?"

"That one was physically painful," the guard, presumably Sirius, said.

"Whiner," Dick retorted before stepping forward to shake my hand. "So, your name's Taylor Hebert?"

"Yes it is, Dick," I replied.

Sirius chuckled. "I think she's learned why we use your nickname."

"You should be more Sirius," Dick shot back before saying to me, "he's such a kidder." He then offered his hand to my dad. "You're Daniel Hebert, then?"

"Yes, you were expecting us?" my dad asked as he shook Dick's hand.

"Yes, Tim, a friend of mine, let me know about Bruce's new intern and I decided to stop by to show her around," Dick explained before gesturing for me to follow him "Come on Miss Hebert, let's show you around."

I followed him out into the hallway and we set off deeper into the building.

"Where are we going?" Dad asked him.

"Right now, I'm going to show her some of the offices that you're clear to be in so the two of you know your way around," Dick replied. "However, judging by your badge you're not cleared for some of the places I'll be showing her later on. She has to know this stuff for her internship, you don't. It was all in the nondisclosure agreement you two signed."

"I'd wondered about that," Dad said.

"Yes, well if she's going to be his assistant, for whatever reason, then she's going to end up exposed to sensitive company information," Dick replied before stopping in front of an elevator and pressing a button. "I'll show you two the workout room. It's good and it's free to employees and interns."

"Bruce Wayne told us that yesterday," I said as we waited for the elevator.

"Good for him, I'd recommend you take up the opportunity," Dick replied. "We've also got self-defense courses which are always good to have."

"Self-defense courses?" Dad asked worriedly.

"Don't worry, she won't be in any danger, but these kinds of courses are good for a person to take anyway," Dick replied before the elevator dinged and its doors opened. "She'll be in good hands."

"That's good to hear," my dad said. "I think she wants to work here because she heard about how Bruce Wayne knows heroes from his business with the League."

Dick chuckled. "Yeah, you could say that. I'd say WayneCorp is one of the biggest suppliers of equipment and materials to the Justice League and Toybox due to its focus on reverse engineering and mass producing Tinker tech. WayneCorp work with super geniuses a lot, so as a high technology company you can expect a lot of highly advanced components and equipment in the labs. I think Star Labs is one of the few places with access to better equipment." He looked at me from the corners of his eyes. "Of course, I should warn you that WayneCorp products aren't toys, so don't play with them. Much, anyway. Bruce doesn't like it if you break his things."

"Don't worry, I won't," I assured him.

"Good," he said, "living through that with Tim, Helena and Colin was enough already."

I frowned and looked at him questioningly.

"People I had to babysit too. You might meet them someday," he explained.

I sent him an affronted look and my dad chuckled at my expression, so I sent a glare his way too.

"So," I asked, changing the subject, "why are you here for me anyway? You look like someone important." Then I found I'd put my foot in my mouth. "I mean, not that I don't appreciate this –"

"But I look like someone with better things to do?" Dick asked. "It's true, but I know better than anyone how demanding Bruce Wayne can be at times. I want to help you settle in here at WayneCorp."

"Thank you," I told him.

"It's no problem," he replied.

Silence filled the elevator car as it slowed to a stop. After that he showed me the regional offices, explaining where important people or departments were in case anything important came up and I needed to talk to someone for Bruce Wayne. He was happy to take his time, but it was truly enormous and I couldn't keep track of everything. Fortunately he seemed to catch on and he explained the numbering system for the rooms to help me navigate.

He even showed me the entrances of several of the low security labs that were in in first sublevel, but I couldn't see anything else with my dad present.

"So, I know this tour has been a bit long, so what would you like to do?" Dick finally asked as we waited for an elevator to the ground floor. "There's a self-defense seminar today if you'd like to see what it's about."

I looked at Dad. I was sure he wanted me to come home with him, but I wanted to look around at where I would be working, and I had decided that I was going to learn how to fight anyway.

Not to mention the fact that Dick had mentioned offhandedly that one of the lower labs had a jetpack that they let him try out when he asked them. A part of me hoped I could ask him for that lab.

"Please Dad?" I asked him.

Dad frowned. He'd become concerned with keeping me safe ever since my mom had died and then I'd help Batman fight Lung. "Are you sure? You'd be coming home late, on your own."

"I'll take the bus, it'll be fine," I assured him.

"It's true, the bus should be safe," Dick agreed. "However, if it makes you feel better she can call from here when she wants to be picked up."

He nodded in relief. "Okay. Taylor, call me as soon as you're ready to be picked up."

"I will," I assured him.

We said our goodbyes, Dad turned in his badge and then he left.

"So," I asked, "where do we go now?"

"Now," Dick replied as he started walking towards a side hallway, "we see if you have what it takes."

"Takes to be what?" I asked as I hurried to catch up. He was using longer strides and walking faster than he had before, eating up the ground with each step.

"That remains to be seen," he replied, avoiding answering my question. Dick led the two of us through side hallways and to a doorway that led to the stairs.

"We're going down these stairs and going to the gym where we'll see how you do," Dick explained. "You are going to be tested mentally and physically as soon as it begins. Any questions?"

"Why do I need to do this to be a personal assistant?" I asked. Then it hit me. Bruce Wayne had said he'd been pointed my way, after I'd helped Batman against Lung. He was rich, and known to support the Justice League and when I'd looked up WayneCorp and Batman I'd seen that there were rumors going around that Bruce Wayne had supplied Batman, Nightwing and the other members of the so-called Bat Family for years. Just as I've finished filling out paperwork, Dick Grayson shows up and offers to take me on a tour, which he can't complete as long as my dad is around. It seemed strange, but enough pieces fit together… "Are you Batman?"

He grinned at me and said, "Don't you know it's impolite to ask after a cape's secret identity?"

I opened and closed my mouth before embarrassment sets in. "Sorry." He was right, I'd watched enough cape shows on TV to know that asking after a cape's identity wasn't something you were supposed to do, and I'd just done it to Batman. Well, I couldn't be absolutely certain, after all he didn't seem like the impression of Batman I had, but he hadn't denied it. In fact, he had practically said yes without actually saying it. On the other hand, he could just be messing with me.

"Don't worry about it," he told me. "Now come on, it's time we see what you've got."

With that he opened the door and began heading down the stairs. We went down five levels below ground before reaching a long corridor with only one door at the end. "So, what do you want to be in life?" he asked me as we walked down it.

"I'm not sure," I replied. "My mother was an English professor, and my father's the Dockworker Union's Head of Hiring…."

"Sorry to hear about your mother, but that doesn't tell me about you though," Dick replied. I saw him turn his head towards me. "What do you want to be, deep down?"

I thought about how to answer him. He seemed nice, but I'd only known him a few minutes. I wasn't sure I was comfortable telling him it, even if I could frame it properly even to myself.

"If it's embarrassing, I promise I won't laugh," he said, trying to reassure me.

If he really was Batman… then I suppose I should tell him. I slowed down to a normal pace to collect my thoughts and he slowed down to match me even though he was ahead. "Well… Heroes, the old ones are…getting old?" I started uncertainly.

He stopped and turned to me with an eyebrow raised. "That tends to happen."

"Yeah, but… there are local heroes but they don't really stand out as much as the old heroes and they're all retiring," I continued.

"Well, it's harder to stand out from a crowd," Dick replied.

"None of them are as powerful or as important as the big ones though," I said, thinking about how to order my thoughts and explain them. "There used to be big heroes outside the seven, like Green Lantern and Captain Marvel, but they're gone."

"Green Lantern's retired to Toybox actually," Dick replied, surprising me. I knew he used to be a big name and I'd done research with Emma as a kid when we would look up the old heroes and villains, but all I'd really known was that he had been a big name, apparently almost as big a name as the seven. For a while, Captain Marvel had been bigger. "Captain Marvel though, you're right." He sighed and shook his head. But what about Captain Atom and the Rocket Reds? They're important, and it's not like Superman, Wonder Woman and Manhunter are ever going to retire."

"Yeah, but it's like the Justice League isn't protecting the world anymore." At his skeptical look I continued hastily, "I mean, it's like they're just a bunch of heroes protecting parts of the Earth and they're all using the same name. It's like the old symbols are going away, even Wonder Woman and Superman."

"They're still doing their jobs," Dick replied.

"You rarely see or hear about them doing anything anymore, I looked online," I countered. "Just because they're out there doesn't mean that they're still living up to their symbols. That's why they made the Justice League, isn't it? To be symbols to unite heroes."

"From a certain perspective," Dick answered with amusement in his voice. "I'm not sure all of them thought the same way, but I think Supes would agree with you." He tilted his head to the side. "What does this have to do with your career of choice?"

"Yeah, um, well… I want to be one," I said, looking down at my feet as I felt my face heat. "Batman… can't be Batman anymore, so I want do that."

"I think you might have a hard time being Bat _man_ ," he snarked.

I glared at him. Dick was deliberately picking apart my ideas! "There's been Batgirls before, and a Batwoman." And there I ran into my problem. "But…" I looked away from him. "… well I can't do that though. I don't have powers or anything."

He didn't say anything in reply so I continued to study my feet. Was he really Batman? What did he think of some girl who wanted to help him but wasn't even a parahmuan.

"It's a silly idea anyway."

"No it wasn't," another voice said behind be. It was a voice I'd heard yesterday, Bruce Wayne's. "Batman was always a symbol, first and foremost. That was always the real power of the costume." I turned around to see him slowly walking towards us with his cane. It seemed he came out of an elevator door that had been disguised as a part of the wall of the corridor for some reason. "It's not as though the man wearing it ever actually had one himself."

I froze at that revelation. Batman, one of the founding members of the Justice League, one of the first super heroes and one of the most important and influential in history _didn't have powers_? How was that possible? He'd never said what his power was, and no one had ever confirmed it for him, Nightwing or other prominent heroes who had been trained by him, but I and practically every source except for a few fringe ones had assumed that was just because he was secretive. He'd fought incredibly powerful parahumans dozens of times, the Joker, Poison Ivy and Bane just to name a few. How could someone who had fought them have won without powers?

"I think you broke her," Dick remarked.

"You weren't supposed to come and give her a tour," Bruce Wayne countered. "Why aren't you in Bludhaven?"

"Good to see you too Bruce," Dick replied. "Colin told me all about what happened and Taylor here, and so I asked Barbara if she wouldn't mind looking into her. Imagine my surprise when I heard you'd taken an interest in her too. Just thought I'd say hi to the new girl, see what she's made of."

Bruce leveled a glare at him, but that wasn't what I was thinking of. It was unbelievable, but Bruce Wayne hadn't been lying when he'd said Batman didn't have powers. He knew who Batman was, which seemed to indicate it really was Dick, except Dick had been in Bludhaven. Not only did that seem a little quick for Batman to be in another town after the injuries he had apparently received against Lung, but that was Nightwing's stomping grounds and Batman wouldn't be subordinate to Bruce Wayne like Dick seemed to be… but Nightwing would.

"You're Batman!" I exclaimed, pointing at Bruce Wayne.

"I suppose if you do that to everyone you meet, you'll eventually get it right," commented Dick.

Bruce Wayne shot him a glare before turning it on me. I tried to bear up under it, but it was just as uncomfortable as my explanation to Dick just a minute ago. "I'm not Batman. He's retired."

That got me to meet his eyes. "I know that, but you heard what I had to say," I told him, "and if you didn't do it with powers, and Dick probably didn't do it with powers, then I can do it too."

"You might be brave enough, but this is a dangerous life. Even the slightest misstep and you or someone else dies," Bruce Wayne replied in a growl. "I'm giving you a chance to be an intern at WayneCorp, not put people's lives in danger. We already have one reckless vigilante out there and it's only a matter of time before someone dies because of her. If you think the simple desire to help people is what it takes to be one of us then think again."

"Then show me how to be a hero!" I shot back before taking a deep breath. I understood what he meant. I'd lived every day thinking that I was responsible for my mom's death. If I hadn't texted her, if she hadn't texted me… then maybe she wouldn't have died in that accident. It was why Dad didn't want us to have cell phones anymore. I knew it wasn't the same as fighting criminals, but now that I knew I didn't need powers to help people, to save lives, I didn't want to just stand by. I didn't want to be worthless like Emma seemed to think I was now. "I want to help people, like I helped you. I don't want people to die because of me, or because I didn't help them when I could."

Bruce Wayne stared at me silently for what felt like an eternity. Dick watched in silence.

I tried to bare up under his scrutiny as best as I could, but soon it got too me and I started fidgeting. Even if he wasn't wearing the cowl, I could tell that this was the sort of look that made thugs give up their boss back in his prime.

After what seemed like an hour, but was probably just a minute or two, I asked, "Will you help me?"

Bruce shook his head and started walking towards the door that Dick had been leading me too earlier. Dick followed him after a second and I watched them head over too it. Bruce held up his badge to a console on the wall, typed in a password and then had his eye scanned. The door parted with a soft hiss, revealing it to be some sort of thick bulkhead leading to a room of greys, whites and blacks beyond.

Just before he stepped through the doorway, Bruce Wayne turned back too and said, "Well, are you coming?"

I broke into a grin and sprinted after him. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Bruce Wayne huffed. "You have potential, but you're a long way off, Taylor." He looked at Dick and said to him, "I believe you were planning on giving her tests?"

Dick smiled in anticipation. It reminded me of Sophia when she had me cornered. "Yes, and if _you_ think she's okay, then that means I get to break out the hard stuff."

"Hard stuff?" Bruce Wayne asked.

I suddenly had a bad feeling about following them inside, but I went anyway.

I was going to be a hero.


	3. Batgirl Beyond 3 & Power Girl 1

**Reply to Ninja645** : Thank you! I'll let the story reveal the world, but this is a crossover of both settings.

* * *

 _ **Batgirl Beyond #3**_

Cover: Taylor stands wearing a white tee shirt and gym shorts, her long dark hair extending down to the small of her back and her hands clenched in determination. She is facing a stark white corridor with white panels held up from below by mechanical arms in the form of steps. At the top of these steps is a transparent blue symbol of a bat with its wings stretched.

+JLL+

The gym was massive. The entrance area had changing rooms with lockers and, changing rooms and showers. This area had floors tiled in neutral grey with white on the lower halves of the walls and black on the upper halves with neutral grey ceilings and blue-white LED lights set in it at regular intervals. The lockers were grey, as were the dividers for the six changing rooms and six showers. It seemed unisex, giving me pause as Dick walked up to one of the lockers, which I noted were much slimmer than the old, boxy ones in Winslow, and opened it.

Dick pulled out a t-shirt and shorts from one of the lockers. "These in your size?" he asked me.

I took them and looked. "They're a bit big but they should fit. Um. Don't these belong to someone?"

"Bruce loves to be prepared," Dick replied, "and I picked it up too. When I decided to show you around I found some surveillance footage of you and estimated your size."

"What?" I asked, taking a step back, suddenly uncomfortable.

"Wayne security systems automatically track physical features in order to help identify and track intruders, particularly Strangers," Bruce Wayne clarified from where he stood at the exit of the entry area. "He didn't actually use it though. Those are some of Helena's old clothes from when she was around your age. You'd know her better as Huntress."

I looked at the shirt I was holding in my hands. This belonged to Huntress? One of the legendary Bat Family? That I was about to be a part of?

And she had a better figure than me?

Damn it.

I shouldn't have cared about that, but it irked me, just a bit, especially since it was one of Emma's favorite criticisms. She had been my friend just months ago and it still hurt.

"Something wrong?" Dick asked.

"Just thinking about the shirt," I replied.

"If you're going to be my apprentice, you can't hide important things from me," Bruce Wayne replied gruffly.

Dick barked a laugh. "Did you grow a sense of humor in your old age?"

"It must have stuck to my fist when I was punching Lung's teeth out."

Dick laughed again. "Now I know why you're doing this instead of trying to pawn her off on us like you did Amy," Dick said cheerfully. "You want a replacement that's a dour as you were; only you're running out time with that new sense of humor."

Bruce Wayne just leveled a silent stare at Dick, who shrugged it off and turned back to me. "Well, the point is that if it's something important you should tell us," Dick explained. "As hypocritical as that might sound coming from us to those who know us better, it's the truth. We have experience dealing with pretty much every conceivable situation, so we can help out and we want to help out."

I nodded and drew in a deep breath. They might not have experience with something like Emma's betrayal and her bullying, but they had dealt with worse and they really were putting a lot of trust in me by bringing me in. "It's just that seeing the shirt reminded me of a former friend."

"Oh?"

I took a moment to collect my thoughts, my eyes drifting away from theirs. "I don't know why, but after I came back from summer camp she had a new friend and she said that she didn't want to be my friend anymore and…" This was more painful to say than I expected.

I looked up when Bruce Wayne put his hand on my shoulder, sympathy in his eyes. "What happened?"

"When school started I tried to talk to her, but she started saying really nasty things like she had only been my friend out of sympathy." I rubbed my wet eyes. "Then her and her friends started picking on me and pushing me…"

Dick sucked in a deep breath. "Alright, not that experienced with helping people being bullied. It's been a while since I last had to deal with that." He was silent for a second. "We're familiar with betrayal too though."

"Yes," Bruce said. "Would you like to be transferred? I don't want this interfering with your training."

Who had they been betrayed by? I looked at his stony face and shook my head. "I want my friend back."

"Sometimes you can't," Dick replied. "Are you familiar with Teen Titans? They're a group I used to run with them back in the sixties and seventies. One of our members turned out to be a spy and a traitor and tried to bury us under a mountain. Sometimes you can't get your friend back no matter how hard you try."

I looked down at the shirt in my hands.

"If she's turned on you then its better you move past it," he continued, "you're a hero now. So what if she doesn't like you anymore?"

I thought about it silently for a minute while they silently waited for my reply. "It feels like I'd be giving up though," I finally said. "Giving up on my friend, admitting that her bullying has won."

"You can't win every fight," Bruce Wayne said, surprising me. "It can just as important to know when to regroup as it is to know when to retaliate. I didn't survive all these years by picking every single fight I could. This is your first lesson: Know that you can't always win, and sometimes it's not worth the cost of winning. You have more important things to do than try to rekindle your friendship with a girl who has decided that she prefers to bully you."

When he put it like that… he was right. I was about to start training to be a super hero, without any powers to help me. I was going to be saving lives and fighting villains like Lung, or maybe even the Joker, who wouldn't hesitate to kill me. In that light, staying in Winslow and trying to get Emma to see sense wasn't worth it. I met Bruce Wayne's eyes and nodded. "…You're right. If you can help me with the bullying, I'd appreciate it."

"Good," Bruce said, "there are two options for you: face the bullies and stop them, or transfer out. If you face them you'll have to know how to fight, and accept the consequences. Do they know how to fight?"

"One of them, Sophia seems like she does," I replied. "She can hit pretty hard and put me in a hold."

"Neither of us likes bullies, but if we're going to need to train you how to fight them while you suffer their harassment, it could hurt your training," Dick said.

"'We?'" Bruce Wayne asked. "You're going back to Bludhaven."

"I'll visit when I can, as will the others when they hear," Dick replied, "and my point still stands. As much as I'd like to help you knock some sense into them or make sure they get appropriately punished, it wouldn't help your training to deal with them in the meantime."

I did want to make them stop; I could imagine seeing their faces when I used my training to stop Sophia from pushing me or trying to take my lunch. But on the other hand, I could tell Bruce and Wayne and Dick expected the training to take a while and I didn't want to deal with the three of them in school while I waited until I was ready. I wanted that final confrontation where I stopped them and made Emma see sense, but I was going to be a hero. I had more important things to do. I inhaled deeply and nodded. "I want to stop them, I want them to be punished... but… you're right. If Emma would rather be a bully, then I have more important things to do." I met Bruce Wayne's eye again. "If you can arrange it, I'd like that transfer."

"It will take a week to file the paperwork," Bruce Wayne replied levelly.

Dick hummed. "We could see about catching recordings of their 'activities,'" he mused, "get them suspended as a going away present. It would be good training for surveillance and any undercover work you need to do."

I smiled. "Thanks, that sounds like a good idea."

"Before we get started with any training or operations, we need to see what you're capable of now," Bruce Wayne interrupted. "Get changed and meet us in the danger room," he ordered before turning around and walking towards the doorway from the entrance area to deeper into the gym.

"Danger room?" I asked, suddenly nervous.

"Don't worry, you won't get seriously hurt," Dick assured me unhelpfully before he too left for deeper into the gym.

With growing trepidation I went into a changing room and exchanged my clothes for Helena's old clothing. It had clearly hugged her figure when Huntress wore it, but for me it was loose in some areas and annoyingly tight in others. Tugging at her clothes that I now wore, I decided that I needed to bring some of my own if I was going to be training here. That way I wouldn't have to wear this again.

I quickly made my way past the lockers and to the gym proper, to see Dick and Bruce Wayne standing in a booth with a console. The booth was had clear walls with a fine black hexagon grid on all sides with a metal bar for the door handle on both sides of its transparent door. The console was large, about three feet wide by two feet tall, and it had two screens and a long keyboard with what looked like a large variety of buttons in addition to the normal keys of a keyboard. Six chairs were positioned inside the booth and I noted that there were also three large screens anchored to the ceiling above the booth. Dick gave me a friendly wave from inside.

The doorway I came out of was actually slightly to the side of the much wider room and connected to a grey carpeted area all along this side of the room and extending out for about twenty feet. This area had walls and a ceiling of the same color scheme as the entrance area, and along its walls were racks with a variety of equipment ranging from nightsticks to swords to grappling hooks and what even looked like a missile launcher. There were also suits of various kinds in chambers that looked like elevators with clear doors. Presumably these were set up so that labs could easily send in their equipment for testing.

On the far left wall of the grey carpeted area was another doorway through which I could see familiar looking exercise machines, though some of them seemed to have larger than expected weights attached. Since this was the same sort of equipment that the Justice League used, I supposed that made sense.

The rest of the room was sixty feet wide by what looked like over a hundred feet, though I had trouble judging the distance due to its stark white color scheme with faint lines separating tiles. It looked like each tile was five feet by five feet across.

"Okay, Taylor," Dick said from inside the booth, I could see his finger was pressing one of the buttons on the console, "this is where things get fun. For me at least, anyway. I don't imagine you know how to use anything here, so you can take the quarterstaff – it's the long white stick – or just step on the green square to begin." With that, he pressed another button and one of the tiles in front of me turned green.

I looked at the square in apprehension.

"Don't worry; this is just a test to see how well you do so we know what to improve the most," Dick assured me. "I promise to only have a little fun with this."

I turned to look at the quarterstaff resting on a nearby rack. I had a feeling that I should bring something with me. That white area didn't look threatening, but I was sure something would happen as soon as I stepped on the green square.

"Don't bring a weapon you don't know how to use," Bruce Wayne told me.

I steeled myself and nodded. It was just a test. How bad could it be?

As soon as I thought that I winced. "Don't tempt fate, Taylor," I admonished myself.

"You don't need to worry about that Taylor," Dick replied jovially. "After all, I'm the one running this test and I know what I'm doing." A distinctly shark-like grin spread across his face.

"That doesn't make me feel better," I replied. I walked up to the edge of the grey carpet and looked at the square warily. Nothing happened, so I stepped on and braced myself for whatever Dick had in store.

I waited, tense as the two of them watch from the safety of the booth. Nothing continued to happen.

Eventually I turned to them and demanded, "Well?"

Then tiles on either side sprang up to form a wall. I could see others in the floor and ceiling doing the same all over until the new walls blocked my view. It took me a moment to realize what was going on: the tiles had formed the walls of a maze.

"Complete the course as fast as possible," Dick said through the speaker system even though I couldn't see the booth anymore. "You can surrender at any time, of course. Just remember that we're recording this and we'll be showing it to the others."

"Not going to happen," I replied.

Dick started laughing. "Good luck kid."

Then the tiles of the floor and the ceiling in front of me started moving towards each other so that they formed steps that approached each other until they came almost together. From where I stood it looked like I would have to crawl through the tunnel the tiles formed. Each "step" was about a foot in height with ten steps until the tunnel, which was about two feet high from what I could tell. From my angle it looked like the tunnel was a few tiles long, so about fifteen to twenty feet.

A holographic timer appeared slightly above and to the side of me and started counting.

I drew in a calming breath and stepped on the first tile. Suddenly it jerked upwards and I stumbled forwards before it jerked down, sending me sprawling onto the tile and nearly catching my chin on the tile forming the next step up. The tile continued to jerk up and down, but I managed to keep balanced on my hands and knees. I was starting to feel a bit sick, but I slowly climbed to my feet and managed to keep my balance before making my way to the next tile and grabbing onto it. That tile started to rise towards the ceiling slowly while the tile I was still on continued to jerk.

I quickly clambered onto the second tile as it rose and then began to make my way to the third tile as the second passed it on the way up, gradually and worryingly gathering speed as it did so. As soon as I touched the third, it started to sink with increasing speed like a mirror of the first tile.

Already panting, I ran to the fourth tile jumped onto it before the third had time to drop more than a foot. I was ready for this one to move up or down, but I wasn't ready for it to tilt back towards the third tile. Surprised, I lost my footing and had to scramble forward to keep from falling off. By the time I grabbed the lip of the tile's far edge it was already at a forty-five degree incline. I quickly climbed onto the next platform, gasping for breath. I wasn't used to this kind of physical exertion at all with only my summer camp experience to help me and I could feel my heart pumping as adrenalin rushed through my veins.

I didn't have time for more than a gasp or two before the tiles forming the walls backed up slightly and the fifth tile, the one I was on currently, began to spin. It was slow at first, but I knew it would only increase in speed. I pushed myself to my feet and ran to the sixth platform, tripping when I reached it and stumbling. When it didn't so much as twitch I looked around and saw that the tiles to either side forming the wall were closing in. A part of me knew that Dick wouldn't crush me, but seeing them close in after everything else the other tiles had done overrode that part of me with fear. I jumped to my feet and sprinted, jumping onto the seventh platform and running across it as fast as I could before it could do anything, but I wasn't fast enough as it started to tilt to the right side and I saw the right wall tile start to close like a bear trap. Righting myself, I ran as fast as I could and leapt onto the eighth step and leapt again before it could do anything.

I flinched and dropped to the floor when a translucent blue buzz saw appeared in front of me and flew through where my head had been just a second ago. I got to my feet as giant translucent blue propeller blades appeared at the edge of the tile and started spinning. At first I thought they were just holograms, but then I felt the air being sucked into them and saw my hair drawn in by the air current created by the blades which a second later were already spinning fast enough to be a blue blur. And then the propeller started coming after me.

I jumped back with a shriek and spun around so that I could focus on getting to the next tile, only to see the buzz saw appear in front of me again. I ducked with another scream as it whizzed through where my head had been and before the propeller could reach me I sprang forward onto the tenth tile.

Not wasting a moment, I scrambled to the tunnel and started to clamber in before the next trap could go off, only to freeze when I realized that the ceiling panels for the tunnel were rising into the air in alternating patterns. A second later I saw the tile second ceiling tile for the tunnel slam down onto its floor tile with a bang before slowly rising again.

I yanked my fingers out of the way of the first ceiling tile with a yelp. "Are you crazy!?" I screamed at Dick and Bruce. "You could kill me with this!" I glared about me as I crouched on the last step before the tunnel, which only left four feet for between the elevated floor and lowered ceiling.

"Being a hero is dangerous and threats could come from any direction at any time," Bruce told me.

"You need to be able to think on your feet and react in seconds," Dick agreed. "However, this is your first time so we can get rid of the timed crushing ceilings this time if you want." The whirring of the propeller blades began to get uncomfortably close as the first ceiling tile hit the floor tile with a bang and resumed its slow assent.

I only had a few seconds before I had to move, but it looked to me that the second tile was about halfway up and the third tile was just about to come down, while the fourth one was a quarter of the way up. I was already tired, but I wasn't going to admit defeat just yet. I scrambled on top of the first ceiling tile as it rose, standing next to the mechanical arm that held it and then jumped down onto the second of the tunnel's floor tiles just as the third ceiling tile slammed down. As it started to rise I stepped on and ran off of it and under the fourth tile.

Unfortunately I ended up running into open air before I could stop myself and fell four feet into a net that hung over a twenty foot square area walled by tiles. Below, the arms that moved the tiles were exposed for me to see as they held the tiles to the sides and four arms held up the net. On the far side of the area I could see one tile forming a ledge to continue past, one half of a tile up from the edge of the net. I'd have to climb up the three and a half feet to get over the ledge. Not too hard.

Then the four arms holding the net started to move up and down in pattern, creating wave-like motions in the net and sending me tumbling before I could even get a firm grip on the net itself. One of my arms got tangled in the net and it yanked on me painfully when I went tumbling away. Gasping in pain I grabbed onto the net with that arm and used my other hand to get a grip as well. I then readjusted my grip while the net seesawed until I was as comfortable in my ability to move forward as I could reasonably expect. As soon as I started forwards again, the tiles at the back rearranged upwards and the net arms at the back began to move upwards as well, all while continuing to generate the waves.

I managed to maintain my grip while the net rearranged itself to be at about a seventy degree incline. I was glad I didn't normally get motion sickness, though this was pretty uncomfortable.

I persevered however, climbing up as quickly as I could while maintaining a firm grip on the shaking net. All I had to do was reach the ledge, which was not more than a foot above the top of the net. While holding on tightly enough that I didn't go tumbling if the net realigned itself again.

After what felt like forever and feeling slightly nauseous, I reached the top. Only for the top of the ledge to move back to its prior height above the net of three and a half feet, meaning that I would have to stretch or jump from the net to grab a hold of the smooth tile.

I was tired, I was dizzy and I knew that I'd probably lose my grip on the net if I wasn't careful. Luckily for me this wasn't a literal deathtrap and the net's 'waves' were slow, so I was able to stand on the net with my left hand gripping the top edge of the net and reach out with my right hand to grab onto the lip of the tile that was the wall of the ledge. Lucking there was a space between the top edge of the wall tile and where the floor tile just beyond connected to the wall tile.

Carefully, I let go of the top of the net with my left hand and whipped it up and over the edge to grab on before I could be surprised again. And I was just in time too, as the net started slowly lowering away as soon as I let go of it. I managed to avoid getting my feet tangled in the net as it lowered while I hung onto the ledge grimly.

I was breathing hard and my muscles were already burning, I didn't think I could hold on but I was determined to get as far as possible before I gave up. At this point I had no illusions that I could complete this nightmare of an obstacle course. I set my feet against the wall tile I was holding onto and walked up along it while holding on as hard as I could even as my fingers strained to maintain a grip. It got to the point where I felt like my arms were about to fall off from the strain of holding on, but I managed to twist just enough to get my left foot over the edge and around the lip formed by the positioning of the wall and floor tiles.

Using the last of my strength I managed to pull myself into a roll over the edge and lay curled up on the floor tile as I gasped for breath.

"That the best you've got?" Dick asked over the intercom.

I manage to say, "Sadistic… bastard."

He laughed. "Giving up then?"

I didn't say anything, instead using the time he waited for an answer to catch my breath because I knew that he would do something as soon as I said anything.

"Alright, then," he said after what felt like a half a minute.

I heard the tiles rearrange themselves around me and sat up to look around.

Behind me a sloping path led directly back to the green start tile with wall tiles along its sides. I didn't trust it, not anymore.

Ahead of me was another pit with the net, except instead of the net being on both sides of the tile I was on, it was only on one side. On my left side the wall of tiles continued with a small gap between the tiles three feet above my feet. The gap extended fifteen feet or three tiles to the next ledge, which connected to a corridor that turned a corner to my left. The net pit was completely walled off otherwise, so it was clearly just there to catch me if I fell while climbing along the edge of the wall.

My arm muscles were already aching in anticipation, or perhaps just from what I'd just been through, but I wasn't about to give up yet.

I rolled my arms and stretched while I continued to catch my breath. I didn't care about the time anymore. I just wanted to get as far as possible.

After about a minute, my breathing was under better control even though my arms hadn't improved their feeling. However, I didn't think they were going to get much better any time soon, so I crouched next to the ledge and grabbed hold of the lower lip of the gap. I then started slowly shimmying outwards, pressing my feet against the wall. The burning in my arms resumed their prior intensity and even seemed to grow as I shifted one hand to the right and then the other. At least Dick didn't do anything else to make things more 'exciting.'

Unfortunately the strain kept building. I had to cover fifteen feet. There was no way I could make it there, but I kept going anyway. I focused on just reaching the end of the first tile, if I did that then I could take a break or something. As I reached the halfway point of the first tile, I realized that it wasn't just my arms. I hadn't really been paying attention to it after climbing over the first ledge but my fingers ached as well. I'd done some rock climbing at summer camp though, so I refused to back down and slid my right hand out another foot and then moved my left and the rest of my body over to it. I reached out again and slid over, this time arriving at the end of the first tile. I sighed in relief. One tile done, just two more to go. I hung from that point at the end of the tile with both hands for a moment, taking the time to try to catch my breath again while I sweated profusely.

I slid out my right hand another foot and then moved the rest of my body to meet it and hung there again to try and rest. It wasn't comfortable in the slightest, but I needed a break. I wasn't sure I could make it to the end of the second tile.

I slid out my hand again and began to move over to it, but my left hand couldn't hold on any longer and I slipped, falling into the net with a cry as I unbalanced.

I lay in the net for a moment staring at the arm mounts in the ceiling and what could only be holographic projectors on tracks as the course shifted around me and the net again. I grabbed onto the net and pushed myself up to look around. The net was still walled in on all sides, except for a level floor tile that connected to a two-tile ramp leading up to the corridor that the ledge I had been climbing towards had been connected too. I wearily climbed off of the net and onto the platform, ready for anything.

The training course remained still.

I started walking up the ramp, glancing around constantly for something to happen, but nothing did. When I reach the corridor, I saw that it continued on to the left of the ramp's top for ten feet before reaching a wide open level area. That must be the next obstacle. Unless Dick decided to put something in the short corridor.

I mentally braced myself and jogged through the corridor, ready to jump at a moment's notice, but nothing happened yet again until I reached the room.

It was twenty-five feet by twenty-five feet wide with ten foot walls and the only exit being the corridor I just entered through, though even as I looked around the floor and ceiling tiles of the corridor rearranged themselves into another two panels for the wall.

I couldn't help thinking that I was trapped.

"Now what?" I asked.

"Welcome to the fight portion of this test," Dick informed me as holographic teal rectangles appeared on each wall of the impromptu room. "Here we've started at the lowest difficulty."

The teal rectangles suddenly had text appear forming in five rows. The top row said, "Wave: 1," the second said, "Difficulty: 1," the third said, "Unarmed: 1," the fourth said, "Melee: 0," and the fifth said, "Firearms: 0."

A translucent red figure similar to a crash test dummy or a store mannequin appeared at the far side of the room. It used the articulated fingers of its right hand to point at me before it brought its hand back to its neck for a cutting motion.

"I love Tinker tech, don't you?" Dick asked me as the holographic thug brought its fists up into a boxer's stance and started slowly approaching me.

"I should have brought the staff," I muttered, instead of loudly cussing at him.

I didn't know how to fight, and I was already exhausted. This was going to hurt.

I brought up my hands as well and decided to try and circle it by moving to the left side. Instead of turning or anything like that, it stepped forward and to its right, matching me and closing.

I didn't have long until it reached me and I was tired. How could I win?

Nothing came to mind. Even if it was a hologram and not a real person, it was taller than me by two inches and looked muscular, probably mirroring how strong the projector would make it. I didn't want to know what I'd face at higher difficulties.

It looked like it knew how to fight, so even without being taller and stronger it had me at a disadvantage.

 _Screw it_ , I thought to myself and charged, bellowing. "Raaaaaw!"

It tensed, but when I was just a few feet away I lunged at it, ducking my head as it swung at me. I hit it hard and knocked us both to the ground. I managed to recover first and brought my left hand back to punch it hard in the face. Its head bounced off of the tile floor and I hit it in the face again, my hand already hurting from the impact. I punched the hologram again, trying to imagine it as Sophia to help me, but the face I really wanted to punch right then was Dick.

"I'm going to pass this test and do this to you, Dick!" I shouted after punching the hologram again. I brought my fist back but stopped when I saw the hologram had stopped moving. _Shit, I didn't kill it, did I?_

I stared at the hologram in silence, before looking up at the ceiling, trying to spot whatever cameras they were using to watch.

"I didn't kill him did I?" I asked nervously.

"You broke his jaw and gave him a concussion, but he'll live," Bruce replied over the intercom.

"Oh, good," I said as I shook feeling back into my hand.

"Yes," Dick agreed, "which means it's time for wave 2."

I fell to the ground as the holographic thug disappeared, to be replaced by two more unarmed thugs standing together off to the side.

I stood up as one of them charged. I tried to roll to the side like I'd seen in TV shows, but he managed to grab ahold of my hair and yank me back towards him. I struggled to get away but the second one came up and punched me in the gut, knocking the air out of me. Before I knew it the one that had charged me held me in a headlock while the second one stood in front of me with a fist pulled back for a haymaker.

He swung his fist at me and I winced, closing my eyes. I didn't feel the hit though.

A second later I hesitantly opened my eyes to see the thug had stepped back and was fading away. The second one let go and I stumbled to my feet.

I heard a loud ding and the timer reappeared, showing nineteen and a half minutes and saying "Obstacles: 3, Opponents: 1."

"Not too bad for a first try," Dick complimented me. "Colin only did one better in the opponents and the obstacles the first time he got here. He's been improving them both since, but the ones you did were basically the same."

"Colin?" I asked between breaths, watching as the tiles reassembled themselves into a path back to the grey carpeted starting area.

"He'll introduce himself later," Bruce answered. "For now, come back here and we'll talk about your training regimen."

I nodded and started back to them.

The trip felt much shorter on the way back, for which I was thankful. It had certainly been exciting, and difficult. But, I knew it was to help train heroes – like me now, even though I still had a hard time believing that even after everything that had just happened – so I wasn't about to give up until I could complete the course. No, until I was ready to put on the costume.

I wasn't ready yet, but I knew I would be. I was counting on it.

* * *

 _ **Power Girl #1**_

Cover: Two young Asian men wearing blue and yellow headbands and jackets stand in front of a dark skinned woman backed against the wall of the dark alley they are all in. A trash bin is visible between them and the purple and red lit street on the other end of the alley. One of the thugs has a knife and the other is holding a handgun sideways pointed at her. All three are staring up at a blond haired teenage girl who is floating in the air above them with her hands on her hips and wearing blue and black gym shorts, a black tee shirt with a blue two on the back, and blue sneakers. She is cast in white light from above.

+JLL+

Everyone dreams of being a super hero, or sometimes a supervillain if they're feeling edgy, but they don't actually expect it to happen. Or, at least, not usually. I, on the other hand, was born into a family of publicly revealed super heroes, New Wave. They started out in the Nineties as the Gotham Brigade, but changed their name to New Wave and publicly revealed themselves in an effort to bring public accountability to super heroes. After all, it had been over two generations since the first super heroes had appeared in the world, and my Mom and Aunt Sarah felt that the Justice League was too high up on their mountain, even with Batman to rein them in. They wanted super heroes to be grounded and accountable to the people instead of sitting in judgement above them.

After Aunt Mary, also known as Fleur, got attacked in her home, the movement almost died until Oliver Queen, owner of Queen Industries, revealed himself to be the Green Arrow. Mom doesn't always agree with him on politics and doesn't like him much, but because of him there are heroes all over the US that are open with their identities, whether they're a part of the official New Wave team or not.

What this all meant for me was that I was raised in a family of super heroes, and everyone knew it. And with the way that family members of supers were likely to get powers, it was expected that I'd get one too. It would even be easier for me, after all it's said that Second Generation Triggers, and subsequent ones, are easier than First Generation Triggers.

Of course, easi _er_ doesn't mean easy. Triggers suck, by definition.

I didn't really understand that when I was younger. I knew it was bad, but I thought getting super powers out of it would make it better. From what I've seen and read, sometimes it does and sometimes it doesn't.

I'd like to say that I was one of those where it did. After all, I'd spent my childhood waiting to get super powers, to become a super hero like my parents. In school we talk about what kind of super powers we'd want and but unlike them I actually knew that I'd get powers someday.

Of course, that someday turned out to not be as soon as I would have liked.

As the child of a local super hero family, I was well known and a bit of a celebrity in my classes. I attracted friends who wanted to be close to capes, and as the daughter of a super hero I was just what the other cape fans in my classes were looking for, save for the fact that I didn't have powers _yet_. I loved to boast about what kind of hero I would be and show them my costume designs, but as time went on my classmates started to lose interest in the cape wannabe. Some even started to resent me for thinking I was 'entitled' to having powers.

Those ones started to pick on me. It was never anything serious, but it wasn't uncommon for them to 'accidentally' bump into me or to say something mean-spirited when I came close enough to hear them.

I tried to cope by being more boastful, and by going to my 'friends' but it seemed even they were getting tired of me. That changed when some Eric and Crystal each got their powers, but when I didn't they seemed to lose interest faster each time. They didn't have the decency to say they didn't care anymore, humoring me while whispering behind my back.

Part of that was my fault; I know that, but… I just wanted friends, attention.

Being the daughter of super heroes wasn't as fun as it might sound, even with the promise of super powers at some point. My mom was always distant, when she wasn't busy. My dad was nice and attentive… on his good days… but most of the time he was depressed and distant.

I was alone.

The day I triggered, I was playing a basketball game. Mom and Dad had promised to be there, but I hadn't expected him to show. Mom had even called me an hour before the game to say that she'd be there even though Dad wasn't feeling well.

She didn't.

Not even Eric or Crystal showed up.

Nor was my crush, Dean, there.

It was like no one actually cared enough come see me.

I did my best anyway, played the part of the good teammate to make sure we won. After all, they couldn't ignore me if I was one of the best members of the team, right?

Wrong.

I tried to intercept the opposing team's pass and the girl behind me, this tall ginger, elbowed me in the side hard enough to knock me out of bounds. I propped myself up on my elbows to watch everyone on both teams rush past to my team's basket. I didn't even hear the referee do anything about it, or see my coach so much as spare me a glance. After all, I was just that arrogant wannabe cape kid.

At that point I couldn't summon the effort or motivation to get up, or even remain sitting like that. I slumped back to the floor, one thought ringing in my mind, _What was the point?_

A moment later, I felt dizzy and realized I must have passed out, not that anyone seemed to care.

I got up and left, not even bothering to go to the locker room. No one stopped me. Even though I saw some of them, teammates and coach included, watch me leave.

I stormed out into the school parking lot and kept going, not really caring where. It wasn't like anyone else did. _Would they care if I never came back?_

I shook my head. Of course they would, when they noticed.

I sighed. I didn't want to think about something so depressing. _I should go. Do something fun, like shopping_. That was always nice, and one of the few times I truly seemed to connect to my 'friends.' Of course they were still watching the game. I could go without them somewhere, but it wouldn't be the same. And I'd need to go back to the changing rooms to get my wallet from my locker.

Damn it. Well, at least there was chocolate fudge and marshmallow ice cream in the freezer.

I looked around to see where I was and froze in shock.

I was flying, _flying_. Then it hit me. I had powers, I was a parahuman.

Laughing, I focused on moving forward and up, seeing just how fast and far I could go and I shot forwards like a bullet. I flew up and over the city until I felt the chill of the night air and the clouds were just barely above me.

Then I looked down at the city below me. It was beautiful with its shining lights spread out and the mixture of Gothic, art deco and art nouveau that set her apart from pretty much every other city on or near the East Coast, heck maybe even the entire United States. For all that it had been through over the years, Gotham still retained a sense of grandeur, of weight.

Even when no one else had been around, there had always been Gotham. Just walking around the older parts of the city, you could get lost in the architecture. In those parts of the city, each building looked different, subtly distinct or stridently unique, like sweeping elegance of the Wayne Tower, the imposing presence of the Arkham Asylum or the dark grandeur of the Wayne Mansion looming on its vast estate just beyond the edge of the city proper. This was especially the case in Old Gotham and near Cathedral Square. Maybe there were cities like that in Europe and Asia, but I hadn't seen or heard anything to indicate there were other places like that here in the US.

Despite the regular grid layout of most streets, some areas were like secluded multistory warrens. For instance, there was the area around the Iceberg Lounge. It was surprisingly hard to find unless you knew exactly where you were going for a place lit up with a neon sign, even when I was flying between the buildings and skyscrapers of the city. And Gotham was filled with places like that.

I spent hours exulting in my ability to fly, exploring the city from above like I hadn't been able to before.

As I flew over the roofs of the Bowery, I couldn't help but think, _They'd always disregarded me because I wasn't a cape, just some wannabe. Well, who's the wannabe now?_

It was exhilarating, but eventually I began to get tired and decided to make my way back home.

However, just as I was turning away from my flyover of Old Gotham, I heard a scream for help. I stopped and turned to look. It took me a moment to place the street from the air, but it wasn't hard. The scream came from Crime Alley. If I could have flown faster I would have, rushing through the air just slow enough to avoid plowing into any of the signs, gargoyles or the tram's tracks. As I entered the alley I heard a muffled cry off to the side and instantly focused in on it, rounding a corner to see two Asian men in blue and yellow accosting a dark skinned woman. One of them had a knife out, and the other had a handgun held horizontally at her.

I narrowed my eyes and thought hard. I'd just gotten my powers, so I wasn't sure what exactly I was capable of. Crystal said it was intuitive to her when she got them, so what could I do? I could fly, but nothing else sprang to mind.

Well, I'd always wanted the Wonder Woman package, well, I would have preferred secondary powers like Superman and the Martian Manhunter, but being a "Flying Brick" was good too. And there was one thing a brick in flight was good for, and that was hitting people really hard. Specifically, hitting bad people.

"Hey, assholes!" I shouted at them, my hands on my hips as I flew above and behind them in the alley.

They turned around and the guy with the gun curse. "Shit, Cape!" He tried to aim his gun at me but I dropped down and to the left quickly, circling around so that Knifey was between us. Knifey tried to swipe at me as I came close, but his knife bounced off of me without cutting my shirt as I punched him in the face. He was knocked off his feet and bounced off the alley wall before collapsing to the ground, but I was already focusing on Gunny.

Juking up and to the right, I managed to dodge when Gunny fired his handgun at me. With the adrenalin pumping through me and feeling dramatic, I kicked his hand and with a crunch I knocked his gun away and he staggered back screaming in pain.

His pain, and the blood that followed shortly thereafter, put me off balance. I'd just crushed his hand.

"Super!" I heard someone shout behind me and I turned around to see three more of the blue and yellow wearing Asian thugs standing at the far end of the alley, having just come around the corner. One with spiky hair had another handgun; one had sickly greyish skin, thick goggle-like shades and a lead pipe – seriously, where do you get those nowadays? I'm pretty sure they aren't sold in stores – and the third had an Oriental dragon tattooed to his face, a sawed off shotgun strapped to his back and a switchblade in his hands. Tattoo dropped his knife and started to reach for his shotgun, while Spike brought up his gun and _didn't_ hold it sideways but instead in a two handed grip like I'd seen Miss Militia use when Mom took me to the PHQ one time, and Lead Head hefted his pipe and suddenly his muscles visibly bulged, looked like he was a parahuman, or maybe a meta.

"Kill the bitch!" Lead Head shouted and I shot straight up.

Spike fired at me, the alleyway echoing with the gunshots, but I managed to dodge them as far as I could tell. Then I was directly over them and about to come down hard. I smirked as I started accelerating down, but the smirk dropped when I saw Tattoo aim his shotgun in my direction and Lead Head swung his pipe at me.

Even if I could shrug off a knife, I wasn't sure I could survive a shotgun blast so I dodged to the right and behind Tattoo, but with his sawed off shotgun he didn't need to aim much and there was a deafening roar. I felt the pellets hit me and stinging pain in my arms.

Before I could do more than flinch back, I saw Lead Head's pipe swinging at my face and everything went dark.

The next thing I knew, I was lying on something hard and everything hurt. And by everything, I mean _everything_. There was an intense searing pain in my jaw and nose and I had aches everywhere else. When I tried to breath, the pain in my ribs was even worse than before. I tried to work my jaw and in addition to more pain I felt something grind on something else. It was bad enough that I nearly blacked out. This was unlike anything I'd ever experienced before in my life. I felt tears well in my eyes as I gasped in pain, hearing mocking voices above me though I didn't understand what they were saying.

That's the thing about unconsciousness; it typically lasts only a few minutes. You don't usually get knocked out and miraculously wake up in a hospital, especially when you're surrounded by gangbanger thugs and their cape leader.

I felt a cool metal circle press into the side of my face, right below my left cheekbone and sending pain stabbing through me. Then I heard Lead Head talking to me clearly. "You're out of your league, little girl. Did you think that as soon as you got powers, that made you someone special? That being able to fly and shrug of Charlie's knife would turn you into some stupid hero? It didn't.

"Lung's been trying to take my turf and he's failed so far, and he's a fucking rage dragon. What made you think you had a chance? Or did you just hear some stupid bitch crying out for help and think 'Hey, I have powers, I should stop those bad guys.' Do you know how many people get powers and think that just because they triggered or found some magic artifact or some bullshit like that, that suddenly they're hot shit?"

He paused, as if waiting for me, but we both knew I couldn't say anything.

"I don't know either. I stopped counting how many I heard of, and even how many I had to deal with personally over the years. You, you're nothing. That's all you'll ever be. Normally I'd string you up as a message, show that even with Lung breathing down our necks after kicking the League and New Wave's collective asses, we've still got what it takes. Maybe maim you for the paramedics. But unfortunately, you're not in costume, you're just dressed in some high school gym clothes like a total amateur. Not even a mask. If I string up your body, people won't think 'Oh, those Hanoi Ten are hot shit taking down that idiot hero,' no, they'll think, 'those damn Hanoi Ten, they just beat to death some slutty white high schooler.' That isn't the message I want to send. Right, boys?"

I heard grunts and words of agreement from people all around me. One of them spit on me, the spittle landing on the side of my face just below my right eye. They all laughed.

"So, what do you think I should do girlie? I can't do nothing with you. Well… not right now anyway. Bloody punching bags aren't my type. So, what'll it be? Let you go? Just say the word and I will."

They all laughed at that, and one of them kicked me in the gut. Luckily I didn't feel any pain from it. I wasn't sure if it was because of whatever my toughness was returning to protect me or just everything else.

"You don't care about your life either?" he asked mockingly. "Well, in that case I've got the perfect place for you. Did you know there's still vats of acid at the old Ace Chemical Plant? Don't worry, you'll get the chance to see them." He chuckled darkly and the others joined in.

I had to get out of there. I could still fly, right?

His pipe left my head and I shot into the air, my head bouncing off the pipe on my way up.

"Get her!" Lead Head shouted, and they opened fire, bullets impacting all around me. And then I felt a searing stab of pain in my side, coinciding with another gunshot. Spike.

I couldn't see clearly, there was blood in my right eye and I was dizzy, but I managed to slip around a roof just before Tattoo fired his shotgun. Even though they couldn't see my anymore, I kept flying away as fast as I could. I don't know how long I flew, just that the blurry lights and sounds of traffic all around me started to fade.

I was exhausted, I hurt everywhere and I couldn't think clearly, so eventually I settled down somewhere, I wasn't sure where, and just lay on the cold, hard ground.

I'd just wanted to be a hero, to have people look up to me and like me. Was that so much to ask?

I would have sobbed, but with my jaw and ribs broken that would have hurt too much.

Footsteps approached me, I think. But I'm not sure if I actually heard that before darkness took me again.


	4. Questionable DecisionsBy Star's Fire 1

**Reply to Hellking666** : Thank you! As for Victoria, that was her first night out after just triggering. Maybe she'll get raised by wolves? I'm sure that would help.

* * *

 _ **Questionable Decisions Special Issue**_

Cover: A man stands on a dark stone staircase while wearing a blue overcoat and fedora with purple trim over a purple vest, yellow shirt, black tie, purple pants and black shoes. His gloved hands are in his pockets as a shadowed figure stands behind and above him on the staircase and is pointing a crossbow at him. Before the man on the staircase is another shadowed figure with a long sweeping cloak or cape reaching to the floor.

+JLL+

 _Sixteen Years Ago…_

Batman walked through the Batcave and to the transparent panes of the door his computer and lab. It had been a long night even for him and he was tired. However, he wasn't done quite yet. He needed to check and update the profile on the Red Hood, and hopefully stop him before he killed again.

"Hello, Batman," a new yet already familiar voice said from behind him.

Batman turned around to see a man wearing the classic PI's costume. He wore a yellow button up shirt with a black tie and shoes, as well as purple suit pants and suit vest. Over top of that he wore a blue overcoat and a fedora of the same color but with purple trim of the same color as his vest and pants. The man stood on the stairs leading up to the manor, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Batman knew that the man's hands were clad in black gloves of the same ebony shade as the man's tie and shoes. The man maintained a casual air despite the loaded crossbow that Helena, out of costume, was pointing at his back from the steps above. The most notable feature of his, however, was the smooth featureless skin that covered his face.

Batman frowned. "What are you doing here Question?"

Helena looked between them. "It's him? Good. He just showed up at the front door in the middle of the night and said he needed to talk to knew, and knew my identity." She gestured with her crossbow. "I thought it'd be best to take precautions."

"You were smart to be careful," Question told her as he started down the stairs towards Batman, his empty face never leaving the older hero. "However, the reason I'm here is the same reason your paranoia is misplaced."

"What are you talking about, Question?" Batman asked warily. Question was a relatively new hero and thus far had done well both in and out of the Justice League. Unfortunately he was known to be an eccentric conspiracy theorist, and was one of the heroes that Batman worried might be just as unstable as some of the villains that he had helped place in Arkham or Blackgate. "And why did you come here?"

"I came here to save the Bat Family from a hidden threat they thought was long dead," the Question explained. "It all started in 1978 when the Joker beat Jason Todd with a crowbar and then blew up the building they had been in."

Batman tensed, his teeth clenched. Even after all these years he didn't like to dwell on that moment, that failure. He regretted every failure, but that was one of the special ones, that he could never leave behind.

"However, that wasn't the end of his story," Question continued as he approached Batman, Helena warily following. "No, many years later his body was recovered by one Ra's al Ghul." Batman stiffened. "Oh, yes. He took Jason to one of his Lazarus Pits and brought him back."

"He's alive?" Helena asked. "Where's he been all these years?"

"Where indeed," the Question said as he stopped just outside of Batman's lunging range. This did not go unnoticed by Batman. "He trained with the League of Assassins, preparing for the day he could have his revenge on the man he felt had betrayed him. Bruce Wayne."

Batman inhaled sharply.

"It was all part of an elaborate plan, created so that would Talia al Ghul become pregnant with Bruce Wayne's child."

"I have a son!?" Batman asked loudly at the same time Helena exclaimed in shock "What!?"

"You would be surprised how many siblings you have, Huntress," the Question replied to Helena without looking away from Batman.

"I'm already surprised," she replied before frowning. "Wait, what does Jason Todd have to do with that?"

"What indeed," the Question said. "Ra's al Ghul wanted to groom his grandson as his heir, and that Bruce Wayne would be both the ideal father as the only man that Ra's al Ghul had deemed a worthy successor. Talia wanted Bruce Wayne to see his grandson. Ra's agreed. Unfortunately for them, Bruce Wayne's survival would jeopardize their operations. They needed someone who could understand the Batman on his own terms, all so they could lay their trap. Jason Todd knew him inside and out, and with their training he was more than capable of fighting on Batman's level. Especially when he was injected with the experimental serums being developed by the Illuminati, Cadmus and Cauldron which are a combination of Lazarus and Superman's DNA. Jason Todd was more than a match for Bruce Wayne, but he wanted to humiliate him, destroy his legacy as the Batman. Thus, he resurrected the early identity of the madman who would become infamous the world over as the Joker. That identity? The Red Hood."

"Whoa, slow down," Helena said, holding up a hand. "Are you saying Jason Todd is the Red Hood so that he can kidnap Bruce so that he can get it on with Ra's daughter?" She paused. "Did I just say that about my own father? Ew. And what was that about the Illuminati and Cauldron and super serums?"

"They've been using access to Lazarus Pits both on this Earth and alternate ones in order to develop new types of serums capable of giving people powers due to the Lazarus Pit's regenerative properties assisting in the subjects' survival and recovery from the procedure. Kryptonian genetic information is just the latest in their long line of experiments, including but not limited to magical artifacts, demonic blood and tissue samples from the dead gigantic alien whose component parts, as well as many of those of its mate's, are responsible for the granting of the majority of what we call super powers," the Question told her. "However, Jason Todd isn't just killing to discredit Batman and draw him out so that he might be kidnaped. No, the version of the serum that Ra's al Ghul gave to Jason also dramatically increased his mental instability, which was already significant given the fact that he had been dead for a long time before being resurrected at the Lazarus Pit. It was only compounded by the trace chemicals from the Joker that he had absorbed into his system by then, and later synthesized and injected into himself so that he could better humiliated and destroy Batman. He began to see himself as the real Batman and wanting to surpass the 'old him,' while at the same time making excuses for why he was avoiding those that could see through his disguises and he continued killing as the Red Hood. What does this have to do with the kidnapping of Bruce Wayne? Very little. He's been gone for three months already."

"He's Jason?" Helena asked.

"You're insane," Batman countered, "you should never have been allowed to join the Justice League."

"Am I Jason? Or are you finally realizing how insane _you_ really are as the delicate façade you've been maintaining comes crashing down around you?" the Question asked as he took his hands out of his pockets, a collapsible baton held in his right hand and a small bottle of spray in his left. "You're a serial killer, a disgrace to that mask you stole. What would your parents say if they were here now?"

With a roar, Batman leaped at the Question, who rolled to the side as Batman moved with inhuman speed and strength.

"Holy crap!" Helena exclaimed as she backed away, her revolver crossbow pointing first to the Question and then to Batman. "Since when could you leap a dozen feet from standing still!?"

Batman glared at her from behind his mask, his mouth drawn back in a feral grin. "I've been doing this all my life, Huntress! Now focus! He's insane! Don't let his mind games get to you!"

Helena glanced at where the Question stood warily facing Batman. She looked back at Batman, who was now crouched with a gas pellet in one hand and a throwing bat in the other. Teeth bared in his vicious smile. She'd been worried about how odd he'd been acting compared to his old self, but this…

"Yeah," Helena said, "I'm going to trust the kooky conspiracy theorist on this one."

"Have it your way," Batman replied before tossing the throwing bat at her and crushing the pellet in his hand so that a cloud of smoke rose up around him. Unfortunately for Helena, she had to dodge the throwing bat and only partially succeeded, the sharpened metal leaving a deep gouge in her shoulder before embedding itself in the cave wall behind her.

Despite herself, Helena stared at the gash in her shoulder and the bloodstained throwing bat. If it had hit somewhere else on her body, it could have killed her. "Yeah, definitely trusting the right crazy guy."

She quickly looked back to see the now clearly fake Batman attacking the Question with a speed and ferocity that she'd seen once before: in her one confrontation with the Red Hood. It made sense now how Batman had never been able to catch the Red Hood. Come to think of it, since she'd come back to town she hadn't seen her father up close without his costume on either.

Faux Batman punched at Question, who parried it with his baton, only for Faux Batman to grab the baton and yank in towards him, forcing Question to let go. Faux Batman then lunged forwards, knocking the two of them back into the transparent doors to the Batlab and causing them to shake. An instant later, alarms started flashing on the console in the lab.

Helena aimed her crossbow at the fake Batman's cape and tried to put a bolt through it. Unfortunately, the bolt hit the cape and slide off with a crack due to its impact carrying the force through to the stone underneath. She readjusted her aim to the fake himself, as long as he was alive in the end that was what mattered. He was currently choking the Question with one hand and reaching for his belt with the other, a scowl on his face. The Question brought up the spray bottle in his left hand and sprayed something into the fake Batman's exposed mouth, causing him to stagger back coughing.

The Question landed on his feet and kicked Faux Batman in the shin before spraying the man in his open mouth when he involuntarily cried out. Helena assisted by firing a bolt at Faux Batman's knee. It wasn't strong enough to penetrate all of the way through the armor since these were just her standard bolts, but it was enough to lodge itself in the joint and trip him up.

Faux Batman landed like an experienced martial artist and started to reach for the bolt lodged in his armored knee. Helena and the Question both ran up to continue the attack while their physically more powerful opponent was on the back foot. After a brief pause, the Question delivered a judicious kick to Faux Batman's groin. While the kick didn't fully penetrate the protective codpiece, it was enough to make Faux Batman flinch and gasp despite the preexisting pain in his face and mouth.

Helena decided to add to that pain in his face, namely by kicking him hard in the forehead. Faux Batman collapsed unconscious.

Helena nodded to the Question. "Let's get him restrained."

"What is going on here!?" a female voice demanded loudly from the lab.

Helena and the Question turned to see Barbara's face glaring out at them from the largest of the monitors. "Why did you just attack him like that?"

"That' not Batman, that's a fake!" Helena told her, pointing at Faux Batman.

"I know that," Barbara retorted. "That's Dick. He's covering for Bruce while he's undercover."

"Dick?" Helena asked before looking back at the Faux Batman and crouched next to him. She pulled off the mask and scowled. It was Dick.

"He didn't tell you?" Barbara asked.

"No, he just pretended to be Bruce," Helena snapped. "Asshole. Why didn't they tell me?"

"Bruce wanted to keep the information as secret as possible and you were going to be at college most of the time he expected to be undercover anyway," Barbara explained. "Though I don't see why Dick didn't tell you earlier," he tone hardened, "or why you felt the need to attack him."

"He attacked us!" Helena snapped back. "He's too secretive, like father."

"Perhaps his name is a hint," the Question mused as he inspected Dick's unconscious form.

Helena laughed as she stood up. "Yeah, I'm going to get some restraints in case he feels like attacking us again," she told him. "What about you?" she asked Barbara. "Do you know why he'd attack us?"

"I don't know, and that has me worried," Barbara replied with a frown. "Get me a blood sample and I'll see what I can turn up."

"Right," Helena agreed as she let the door's electronic lock scan her eye before opening. She quickly jogged in and retrieved a set of Brute grade restraints to take back out.

"What are you doing with those?" Barbara asked with concern.

"He was stronger than he should've been," Helena explained as she quickly moved back to Dick, who was starting to stir until Question hit him in the head with his retrieved baton. "Question thinks he was dosed with some sort of super formula that drives him crazy."

"Actually, he likely inhaled some sort of hallucinogenic or psychotropic agent which removed his body's natural limits which are allegedly in place to protect it from harming itself," Question informed them. "Red Hood, aka Jason Todd, did this in order to drive Batman crazy and humiliate him. Ra's al Ghul wouldn't give away a sample to an enemy besides his preferred successor. Obvious, in hindsight."

Helena nodded as she cuffed Dick's hands and feet. "If you don't mind, I'd like some second hand confirmation of this."

"A wise choice," the Question told her as the two of them picked up Dick and moved him into the lab.

"Thanks," Helena replied.

They set him next to a forensic analysis setup and used a syringe to draw a sample of blood from Dick. Helena then inserted the blood into the machine and pressed the button to set it to examining the sample.

"So, what did you spray him with?" Helena asked. "I mean, you thought he was a Kryptonian enhanced super soldier, so what did you think could work against him?"

The Question took out the spray bottle and held it up for her to see. "Brute grade pepper spray. Extremely concentrated."

"Ouch."

"Yes, but the Illuminati developed countermeasures to those and similar chemicals using unicorn tears so that their own agents are immune-"

"Looks like you were right," Barbara muttered from the screen, interrupting the Question. "These are on file as being used on several occasions by the League of Assassins, and there are traces of Joker's Smile-X. I'll have an antidote and a sedative brewed in a minute, but I'm afraid it won't be using any unicorn tears. They are extinct after all." In the lab, several machines hummed to life and began to work. "Not to mention imaginary," she added under her breath.

"That's what _they_ want you to think," replied the Question.

"So this is our main intel guy?" Helena asked.

Barbara cleared her throat.

"Yes?"

Barbara rolled her eyes. "He's surprisingly good at putting together information even without any apparent Thinker power. However, he tends to get carried away."

"That's what you think," Question replied. "Hidden organizations and secret worlds abound. Themyscira, Atlantis and the League of Assassins are only the tip of the iceberg. _They_ seek to control world events, manipulate us and shape us for their own sinister purposes. Even when the League at large is exposed to parts of the hidden world, such as with Batman and the Court of Owls, you refuse to see."

"I'll admit that there are secret societies all over the world, but sometimes the simpler answer is the correct one," Barbara countered. "And no, a giant conspiracy controlling everything is not the simplest answer."

"It is not simple," the Question agreed "but it is the truth."

The chemical synthesizer beeped and Barbara shook her head. "Okay, listen. We don't have time to go down the rabbit hole. Inject Dick with this and it should neutralize the chemicals in his system. I'll let Kory and Tim know what's going on and they'll come help out with the Red Hood."

"What about Dad?" Helena asked. "You said he was undercover."

"In the Middle East, tracking down some leads related to the League of Assassins," Barbara elaborated. "If Red Hood is working with or worked with the League, then that means he could be in danger. Well, more danger."

"So we're going to go save him?" Helena asked, eagerness bleeding into her voice.

"No, I'll just ask Manhunter and Superman to do flyovers and find him when they get the chance," Barbara replied. "Manhunter would be passing over soon anyway and Superman regularly flies around the world to help with disasters as well. Not to mention the fact that we have about three hundred League members in the region in case he needs backup."

"Oh," Helena said, put out.

"Yes, you're part of a world-wide organization with literally tens of thousands of members and hundreds of thousands of affiliates, you don't have to do everything yourself," Barbara replied wryly.

"If he hasn't been found by the time we've dealt with Jason, we can go anyway," Question assured her. "I've been meaning to locate any of their remaining documents regarding their secret alliance with the Templar and the other Crusader orders anyway."

"Thanks," Helena replied. "For a guy Wildcat called crazy, you're not too bad. Even if you are probably the ugliest guy around with the way you're always hiding your face."

The Question reached up to touch his face mask.

"I hope you realize that if Dick were awake right now he'd be teasing you mercilessly about how romantic that sounds," Barbara remarked.

"Romantic?" Helena scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. I just called him ugly!"

Barbara's only reply was to start laughing before cutting the connection.

Helena and the Question shared a silent moment before she gestured at Dick, who was starting to stir again. "Well, I'll inject the counteragent in him and change into costume. You can drag him to the infirmary." She paused and smirked. "Unless you'd like to watch." Then she blushed and scowled. "Damn it, now Barbara's going to show Dick _and_ Tim that."

The Question cleared his throat and adjusted his tie. "Yes, let's follow your first plan. After that you can clear the security footage."

Helena nodded. "Good idea." She took the injector for the antidote out and used it on Dick, who was stirring.

"I'll still… tease you…" Dick slurred as he tried to get up.

"Don't worry, Dick, you're still crazy," Helena assured him as she held him down.

"'m not crazy… b'cause I'm Batman…"

"Shh, of course you are," Helena assured him as he slipped into unconsciousness again. She turned to the Question. "I'll get into costume while you bring him to the infirmary and then I'll figure out how to delete the security footage. Good?" Question nodded. "Break."

Little did they know, but Batman's security footage was not stored merely on the Batcomputer, but also the Watchtower where Tim had started watching the instant Barbara had sent him a message about what was happening.

Stephanie leaned over Tim's chair and looked at the screen. "What's going on?"

"Just some cute bonding over dealing with unconscious crazy people," he explained.

Stephanie hummed. "If you edit a mask over upper her face we could play it on repeat in the commons."

"She'd probably die of embarrassment at people seeing her in her pajamas while she's saying that," Tim replied. "Let's do it."

* * *

 _ **By Star's Fire #1**_

Cover: A column of viridian green light which gradually fades away into yellow. In the center is a slim silhouette standing with their hands and feet spread apart and their head tilted back. Despite the pillar of green light surrounding the figure, it is possible to see more green light leaking from the figure's eyes, nostrils and mouth even though finer details are not possible to distinguish. Near the viewer is another silhouette, facing the column of light. They stand with a hand in front of their face in an attempt to block out the light.

+JLL+

 _Now…_

Life's crazy, you know that? Back before all this, if you'd told me what I'd be and where I'd be, I would have called you crazy. Some things you just never see coming.

My life wasn't what you'd call good. In fact, by most objective standards, it sucked. When I was a little kid, I didn't think it was so bad. But that's mostly just because I didn't know anything back then.

Okay, I could tell things were different. I just didn't know _how_ different things really were. Mostly I thought things were pretty cool. I got to basically do whatever I wanted. No one really cared as long as I didn't attract the attention of the wrong sibling. Or Dad.

There are a lot of times that show how fucked up my life was, dozens at least, but I'll go with one when I was eight or so. Two of my sisters – I have enough that the specific names don't really matter – were watching this craptastic stop motion cartoon. Of course, I didn't want to watch it, I wanted to watch the music channel. They'd outnumbered me two to one, I'd known that I'd lose the argument. So instead of arguing, I'd thrown a temper tantrum, started screaming.

The entire atmosphere in the house changed in an instant. My sisters went from argumentative to conciliatory in a second as soon as I started, changed to the music channel, tried to give me the remote. One of father's 'girls' came in and tried to quiet me down. When I'd continued anyway, she clamped her hand over my mouth.

It wasn't enough. Dear Old Dad came marching out of the master bedroom. Nikos Vasil. _Heartbreaker_. One of the scariest Masters around, within the past decade or so anyway, able to make a person feel whatever he wanted. That's how he got his 'girls,' in case it was hard to guess. Tall, wearing only his boxers, with a muscled, lanky physique, long hair plastered to his head with sweat. Father had taken two or three seconds to assess the situation before using his powers on all four of us, even his 'girl.' He hit us with stark terror. The kind of fear you experience when you were claustrophobic and you woke up in a coffin six feet underground. That's how Marko described it at one point. Said he knew from experience, and I believe him.

Then father had turned around, gone back to his bedroom and slammed the door behind him.

I'm not certain when exactly that was, but it was around summer. I didn't have any way to tell time, back then, since I hadn't been going to school, and the days kind of passed. Still, it had been hot, so summer seems right. I hadn't opened my mouth to speak even once between that summer and Christmas.

Maybe father broke something in the process of all of that. With that kind of childhood, how could he not?

His 'girls' didn't care about us, his children. Father cultivated us, bred for us, went miles out of his way to get us back if any of his 'family' was taken from him. But he only cared about us as his pawns, or just to keep us around. He was possessive, and liked collecting people. When we were around, he paid almost no attention to us kids. When he did, it was to discipline or test us. Disciplining meant getting a dose of paralyzing fear for not listening to him, insulting him, or even looking him in the eyes, sometimes. Testing happened on our birthdays or if he'd had a bad day. He'd try to set up a trigger event. Not supposed to be hard, given that we were second generation capes, obviously, but he started when we were eight.

Unfortunately for me I didn't get the fortune of triggering early. I think some part of me just refuse to break, just to stick it to him. I think I would have preferred to trigger early, under most circumstances.

However, his apathy towards us helped me out. I learned how to avoid him, which wasn't hard admittedly. When he went on the war path, I just made sure that there was someone else between me and him. It's like that saying about running from bears. You don't have to be the fastest, just not the slowest. Of course, anything that looked like fleeing or hiding from him would just make him go after you too.

It wasn't all bad though. I didn't do it often, but sometimes I went out into the city. There wasn't much I found interesting, but wandering around Montreal wasn't bad. In fact, I considered it better that staying in the house most of the time, and not just due to the fear and boredom. It wasn't as though I expected to be able to run away however. My siblings, such as Guillaume and Nicholas, were more than enough to make sure that wouldn't work. If it even crossed our minds.

If I managed to steal enough pocket change from father's 'girls' or my siblings who had some from working for father, then I could go out. A few times I went to a café. I'd buy an expensive drink and watch people, sometimes imagining what their lives were like. I was smart enough by then to know that things were different for other people. I wasn't sure _how_ different though, aside from what I considered the obvious. They didn't have to deal with Dear Old Dad for instance, or at least not usually.

A few times I imagined some of couples as my parents. I knew enough about what life was like for other people through TV to know that they were probably better parents than my father. At least they wouldn't intimidate and coerce with their powers, if only because they probably didn't have any.

One time, I was sitting at a table outside. It was cool out, but not particularly cold. It was sometime in autumn. I had a large mocha with whipped cream and was sipping it while looking around.

I noticed a man with grey hair sitting at one of the tables. I hadn't seen him before, but he looked like he was from somewhere to the south, in the United States. Wearing a green-grey button up shirt and blue jeans, he looked strong. He'd clearly exercised throughout his life. Even as he relaxed in his chair at the café, his eyes seemed to constantly search his surroundings. It wasn't an active wariness though. Rather it seemed something ingrained in him through a lifetime of experience.

I immediately identified him as a veteran of some sort. Either police or military, though those weren't very big with superheroes existing for so long. Maybe he was a retired super? They were starting to become more common these days.

When his gaze locked onto me, I smiled and nodded at him. He nodded back before opening an English newspaper and beginning to read it while he drank his coffee. I spent a minute idly imagining what his life as a super hero was like when a young woman in her late teen or early twenties walked up with her own drink and took a seat across from the old man, setting a black and green courier bag down on the ground next to her as she did so. Medium height, light, creamy skin contrasting her shoulder length, dark green hair and her emerald green eyes as well as form fitting bright green tank top and black slacks and sneakers that helped show off her figure. It wasn't a stretch to assume she liked the color green. She waved at the old man with her free hand and I noticed that she was wearing fingerless gloves, also dark green.

"Hi, Uncle David," she said to him. I unobtrusively leaned in closer to listen in better.

"Hello, Jade," he replied as he glanced up from his paper. "What brings you here? I'm on a vacation."

I could only see her face from the side, but I still managed to see the corner of her mouth quirk up. "I was wondering if you could help me with something." Jade reached into her courier bag as she continued talking, "Dad said you helped him out with a similar project back in the day." She pulled out a plastic bag with what looked like broken pieces of some sort of plastic with a green metallic sheen.

She took a sip from her cup while David answered. "I'm retired, Jade. If he broke it after I helped him get the thing working, then that's his own damn fault. Besides, I'm sure his new friends would be more than happy to help him out."

She set down her cup and shook her head. "They could help, but it's not _just_ this." She leaned forwards and set her elbows on the table. I imagined that from David's angle he was getting an eyeful of her low cut blouse. I frowned, idly wishing I was sitting there instead. "You were able to help him get it just barely working and he was able to take in the rest of the way on his own, but we found another. And not just one of these dinky rings either."

I think David silently reacted somehow, but I wasn't paying much attention to him. _Damn_.

"It's true," she said to whatever his reply had been. She opened the bag and poured it into her right hand. I couldn't help but notice a piece bounce out of her hand and through the grate of the café table. It glimmered on the ground, but I tore my eyes away for something more important. "I want to fix it, completely. Not that patchwork project you and Dad did all those years ago."

"It worked well enough," David replied, sounding a mixture of annoyed and curious.

"Yeah, but the thing is, this thing we found isn't some antique battery," she smiled wickedly, "it's a generator. And generators can power things." Jade's smile twisted into a grimace and I sighed in disappointment. "But it's pretty smashed, along with everything else and we can't do what you and Dad did last time."

"Then how do you expect me to help?" David asked.

Jade smiled encouragingly. "Dad always said you were a bit of a Jack of All Trades. Not to mention that you're pretty skilled at what you do."

"And I ask again, how could 'what I do,' help," he retorted. I could _hear_ the scowl in his voice.

Jade leaned back, showing off her figure from another angle for me, and sighed. "You can't think of any way, Uncle David?"

 _I could think of a few ways to help you_ , I thought.

David grunted. "Without what we used last time, I don't think I can fix it on my own." Jade straightened up to speak and he cut her off, making her pout. "Not even with your father and his 'colleagues'' help."

"There must be something you can do," she pleaded, leaning forward and clasping her hands in front of her chest. "I came all this way to find you."

"How did you find me anyway?" he gruffly demanded. "I'm retired and touring Canada."

Jade leaned back and smirked. "A little birdy and his friend told me."

"Dick," David snarled. I wondered if that was his actual name or just what David was calling him. Either way was probably accurate.

Jade's smirk intensified. "Kory, actually."

David grunted. "Same difference." He may have done something else as well, but I still wasn't paying attention to him.

"Anyway," Jade said, bringing them back to their original topic, "the point is that we need your help. Please?" She leaned forwards again and though I couldn't be certain I think she was using puppy dog eyes on her uncle David.

David scoffed, before relenting. "Fine. There's someone who I think could help us. It's up his alley as much if not more than mine."

Jade's face lit up and she did an excited little jump in her seat. "Yes! Thank you! You won't regret this!"

David sighed. "Yes, I'm sure."

They soon left, Jade dragging David away from the café. I hated to see her go, but I loved to watch her leave.

However, my attention kept being drawn back to that green piece of plastic. Once they were gone, I finished off the dregs of my mocha and walked over to their table before anyone else could sit down there. I crouched down and picked up the piece in my hands.

It wasn't plastic as I'd first thought, but some kind of green metal. It was weird, but I'd already pegged David as a retired superhero and Jade hadn't gone to any particular lengths to keep that fact a secret, so I assumed this was some kind of Tinker tech her daddy had salvaged a while back and they'd found more. There was something about the piece of scrap metal that drew in my eye, but I wasn't sure what.

I shrugged and put it in my pocket before tossing my cup in the trash and walking away.

Over the next few days I found myself keeping that strange metal shard with me. In order to make sure I didn't lose it due to its small size I kept it in a piece of plastic wrap tied closed with rubber bands. I wasn't sure why, but I always felt more certain with it around. It occurred to me that I was carrying around a piece of some sort of weird Tinker tech material, but I didn't really care about that. If Jade had been carrying it around in a plastic bag it couldn't have been that dangerous. If anything, the possibility that I might accidentally irradiate us in our home appealed to me in a vindictive sort of way.

Unfortunately, I couldn't always stay clear of Dear Old Dad when he was in his moods. One late afternoon I was in the kitchen fixing myself a snack. Cherie and Guillaume were sitting at the table playing cards with Nicholas. He was in the bathroom with his hand so Cherie didn't cheat, though of course Guillaume had accused him of using that as an excuse to cheat himself. And then father barged in through back door and stormed into the kitchen. We all stiffened as he glared about, before his gaze settled on me.

"Jean-Paul," he snapped, "it's time for a test." He spoke in French, after all we were Quebecois.

I swallowed, my hand going to the shard in my pocket.

"You've been remarkably stubborn, so we're going to try something different," he growled. I think he was offended by the fact that I hadn't triggered yet and I was around fourteen. Without records I wasn't sure of my age. Not that it was very important right then.

He stepped forward and hit me with crushing fear again, paralyzing me.

He looked at Cherie and Guillaume. "Bring him."

They both jumped to obey, afraid of our father just like I was.

Even with the absolute terror he was pushing at me, as my hand clenched around the shard, something changed. I didn't want to go with them, to get taken to another test. I lashed out with my free hand, striking Guillaume in the face before I'd even realized I'd done it.

It was so surprising that all of us stared in shock. Father was so surprised that the terror he'd put on me loosened its hold. In that moment acted on instinct, turning and dashing for the back door and shoving father out of the way. He was so surprised that he actually tripped and fell.

I sprinted faster than I'd ever gone before and reached the door in seconds.

But father recovered faster. "GET HIM!" he roared and fear that wasn't entirely his fault flooded my on hearing him.

I yanked open the door and bolted at a dead sprint away from the house. I knew I wouldn't get away with them so close. Father and Cherie would be able to track me. However, I was already running scared and fear of what they'd do to me for my test. Either way I wasn't going to let fear stop me.

Then I started to calm down. After all, what was he going to do to me that was so bad?

Oh, right, the test.

Why did I care about that again?

And then I realized what was happening. Cherie or father, or both, were hitting me with lethargy and apathy.

I tried to grit my teeth, but found it difficult to summon up the effort as I slowed to a walk. I knew intellectually that I _really_ didn't want them to get their hands on me, but I couldn't get away.

Each step got progressively harder to will myself to take. But I kept going anyway.

Until Cherie walked in front of me on my left, smiling at me.

I started to look around, but then stopped. After all, I was just so giddy. What could go wrong?

I felt Guillaume roughly grab hold of my wrists. That wasn't nice, but I was still just happy to be alive. The weather was nice, if not for having to see Cherie the moment would have been perfect. I saw her lips curl into a frown at that.

"Get the chains," father ordered. I wasn't sure who he ordered, but Cherie didn't move from where she was standing in front of me aside from a glance behind me, and Guillaume didn't move either. Maybe Nicholas? It could have been someone else.

"Come," he commanded again, and Guillaume pulled me with him back towards the house, but he didn't need to. I was giddy with excitement already, eager to see what was in store.

I focused on how great it would feel to hit Guillaume, or Cherie or Dear Old Dad, but I felt any hostility quickly slip away.

They took me into the basement. It was carpeted except for the bare concrete of the corner room they took me too, but I didn't mind. They took me and wrapped chains around me, binding me to the floor. When they were done, Guillaume and Nicholas stepped back to either side of father.

He glared at me, angry enough to send a tinge of wariness through Cherie's emotion manipulation before she smoothed it away. "Stop," he said. Cherie stopped and suddenly the reality of the situation settled in. I was chained up for a test and father was _pissed_. I'd knocked him to the ground, and now he was going to test me.

I offered a smile. "Hey, Dad."

"Get the pipes."

I swallowed. "Shit."

"I am not happy with you, Jean-Paul." He informed me with a dangerous tone of voice. It promised suffering, which was worse than usual with these tests.

I opened my mouth to say something when he hit me with paralyzing terror again.

He glanced at the doorway as Guillaume and Nicholas came back, each with a hockey stick and a copper pipe respectively. Father gestured at me and they stepped forward, pulling back their weapons to swing.

"Wait," Cherie said, and suddenly I felt hope stir in my chest.

Father turned to face her silently, letting the terror he was sending me subside to a more natural level.

"He's got some lucky charm or souvenir he's been carrying around for the past few days in his pocket," she helpfully informed him, even pointing out my pocket.

"Take it out."

She nodded, looking submissively at the floor, before crouching over me and pulling the metal shard out of my pocket. I glared at her, and she gave me a vicious smirk. I spit at her and she shrieked in anger, kicking me and hitting me with another dose of terror. She stood up and unwrapped it, wiping her face off with the plastic wrapping before tossing the spit covered plastic on top of me.

She looked at father questioningly as she held it up. "May I?"

He nodded.

Cherie kicked me again and looked to Guillaume and Nicholas. "Let's see if we can make him a Brute. Hold his mouth open." After a short pause, she added, "Please."

The two shot her annoyed glares but set their weapons down in order to force my mouth open.

The crushing fear was too intense to do anything. I think father didn't want a repeat, even if Cherie probably wouldn't have minded me biting one of them. They forced my mouth open and Cherie crouched and dropped the green metallic shard in my mouth. "Make sure to swallow, Jean-Paul," she cheerfully informed me as Nicholas forced my mouth shut.

Cherie stepped back and Guillaume moved away.

My eyes locked with father, and before I knew it I was being hit with the hockey stick. At some point Cherie joined in with the copper pipe. I writhed around as the shard cut into my mouth with its edges.

Each hit was vicious and I could see the sadistic satisfaction Cherie got out of it as she smirked at me mockingly. I felt trapped. In my terror I knew they were going to kill me this time. Father was too mad to stop them, not in time anyway.

I couldn't do anything. I needed to –

– escape!

I thrashed, trying to break free as father and Cherie staggered. I suddenly felt _alive_ , stronger, full of energy. I didn't expect much but I had to try something.

And with a screeching of metal and a flash of viridian that something worked as the chains holding me snapped apart.

I sat up, shoving Nicholas and Guillaume to the side as I glared at father.

He hit me with absolute, blinding terror. I couldn't move, couldn't think as he watched me, a scowl tugging at his lips. But that wasn't what drew my attention, my fear. I could feel something building up inside me, screaming for release. I could see green creeping into the edges of my vision.

The terror suddenly left me, being pushed down into contentment by them, but I wouldn't let them do this to me. I'd just snapped his chains. I'd just tossed two of my brothers away from me like rag dolls. Like hell I'd let him make me his pawn.

"Fuck you old man, and fuck you Cherie," I snarled before _pushing_ and _pulling_ at the energy screaming for release, tossing my newfound powers in their faces.

And then everything went green.


	5. Batgirl Beyond 4 & Aquarium

Reply to HellKing666: I think won't answer about Jean-Paul's biology here, but Dave/David is David Nelson aka Doctor Fate, a combination of Worm's Eidolon and DC's Dr. Fate. As for the fragment of the Green Lantern Ring, it might be bright green but its still pretty small.

Reply to Xbox432: Yes it was worse, but in the long term it might end up better for Victoria. As for Jean-Paul, the protagonist of By Star's Fire and a character from Worm, it was a Worm style Trigger aka an incredibly traumatic event that leads to super powers. That's all I'll say here.

* * *

 _ **Batgirl Beyond #4**_

Cover: Exercise equipment of various kinds fills a large room with a grey carpet and white and black walls, many of these look ordinary, if high tech, while others are well outside the norm such as a large solid metal cylinder mounted five feet over a metal platform. Walking through the large room are two men and a teenaged girl. One man has white hair and his using a cane while wearing a black suit with a grey shirt and black shoes. He is gesturing in the direction of one of the machines. The other man has a grey suit matching his grey hair and is also facing the machine, his face is not visible. The girl has long curly dark brown hair and has her hands clasped behind her back around a throwing bat. The carpet of the room is mostly neutral grey. However there is a large area that is dark grey, it is shaped like a bat with its wings spread wide.

+JLL+

When I reached Dick and Bruce, they had already stepped out of their booth. As soon as I stepped off of the last of the Danger Room's tiles and onto the grey carpet, I heard the last tile settle back into place in the floor.

Dick was smiling encouragingly and Bruce watched me with both hands on his cane.

"So," I said, taking the initiative, "what kind of training program do you think I need?"

"You should come here every day and do one of the simple courses," Dick said. "Also, there'll be self-defense courses available for employees and interns. Take them, at least at first."

"That's a good start," Bruce agreed, "but I'll also be instructing you on occasion. Martial arts schools don't necessarily teach you how to fight the kind of battles you'll be involved, but there is a gym I know that's good for training how to fight."

"Sounds good to me," I said with a nod.

"Then let's take you on a tour of the gym," Dick suggested. "That way you can get acquainted with the machines and weights while we're here." He started walking towards the side room with the Justice League grade workout equipment. Well, aside from the Danger Room anyway.

"Alright, what's first?" I asked.

"Well," Dick said as he started, "I imagine you can see that giant machine through the doorway. That's for brutes. I don't recommend you use it since most of its settings are going to be out of your range."

"Once you're ready for the suit, you could use it," Bruce told me. "However, there isn't much point as the majority of your training with it will be to make use of it _without_ applying extreme force. If you're not careful with enhanced strength, you could easily kill someone."

"Especially in bed," Dick agreed. When Bruce glared at him and I stopped walking, mortified, he hastily added, "but you shouldn't attack people in bed. It's inefficient. Much better to ambush them with a sedative while they're asleep."

I started walking again, the two of them in front of me with Bruce still glaring. "Right…"

Bruce broke off his glare to glance at me before continuing to the exercise equipment. "Since we're on that topic, be careful to avoid getting grabbed by Brutes. Even when you get your suit you will still be vulnerable to their strength."

I nodded and said, "Makes sense."

"And another tangentially related topic," Dick said, "because I know Bruce would want me to bring it up." Bruce resumed his warning glare, but Dick continued anyway. "You should avoid dating supers, especially Brutes and flying bricks. It's been what, about forty years now? And Bruce still hasn't given up on making evident his quiet disapproval of Kory's 'irresponsibility' due to her super powers. And that's without getting into the grief he's given Cass. Not to mention – well, he probably deserves at least some of it."

Bruce grunted in annoyance.

"Okay, most of it," Dick amicably agreed.

"Right, no dating super heroes," I loudly confirmed, embarrassed by this turn of conversation and just wanting to finish it as fast as possible, "Er, with powers anyways."

Dick held up a finger and nimbly dodged when Bruce jabbed his cane at Dick's feet. "But remember, super villains, especially if they're hot, are okay to romance. Turning villains good – or at least neutral – through the power of love is a tried and true tactic after all."

"Um," I added. Then I realized what he was referring too. Batman was _the_ legendary super hero of the city after all. "Wait, you mean Catwoman, don't you?" I gasped as my mind clicked. "Did you really marry her or did you break up or something? Was she…" I took a moment to think hard about the people that I knew were close to Bruce Wayne. I didn't pay much attention to that sort of thing so only a few names came to mind, and only one of them was a woman. "…Barbara Gordon?"

Dick started laughing uncontrollably and even clutched his stomach, doubling over.

Bruce gave him an unamused look, but for a moment I saw the corner of his mouth quirk up. He then rapped Dick on the head with his cane. "Behave yourself."

Dick straightened, rubbing his head with an unrepentant grin still on his face.

"I guessed wrong, didn't I?" I asked, somewhat needlessly.

"Yeah, want to try again?" Dick asked as he too casually took a step out of easy reach of Bruce and his cane.

I glanced at Bruce's face. He _seemed_ stern and annoyed, but at the same time I saw an amused twinkle in his eye. I grinned and scrunched my face up in thought. "Well, I don't really remember anyone else to guess unless Lucius Fox used to be a woman. He used to be the head of WayneCorp's Advanced Technology division for reproducing Tinker tech. He was probably a Tinker himself. I don't remember if Catwoman ever used anything that was Tinker made, and it was a long shot anyway." By this point both Dick and Bruce were chuckling.

"Can you imagine Lucius in that purple cat suit?" Dick asked with laughter in his voice. He mimicked a feminine seductive pose with his weight on one leg and the other bent slightly with his hip tilted and thrust out to the side while he leaned forwards slightly with his left hand on his hip. He then reached out with one hand clawed, which he closed while saying, "Meow," in an imitation of a deep male voice.

Bruce shook his head before remarking with a dry tone, "Scarecrow conjured up worse nightmares, but not by much."

I burst out laughing and they chuckled too. "Did she really do that?" I asked a minute later once I had my laughter under control.

"Sound like an old black man?" Dick asked. "I don't ever remember that, but if Bruce asked her to…"

"No," Bruce definitively stated, "she did not."

"She did do the pose though," Dick supplied.

"Until that time Tim threw a bucket of cold water on her from behind and then called her a 'bad kitty,'" Bruce added. "I don't think she ever forgave him for that."

Dick laughed and looked at me. "I remember hearing about that, he was supposed to ambush her, but saw this bucket that had been sitting out in the docks for a few days and couldn't resist. Kept up that sort of thing even after she gave up the villain game."

"He enjoyed getting a rise out of her." Bruce shook his head and started walking towards the equipment again, gesturing for us to follow.

Dick nodded, a nostalgic smile on his face for moment before he followed as well.

I walked behind them in silence for several seconds. They were probably thinking about Catwoman. I got the impression that something happened to her, though I wasn't sure what.

Then another name I vaguely remembered being mentioned on the news at the same time as Bruce came to mind. It was another long shot, but since the other was apparently so funny I decided to go with it anyway. Maybe it would break them out of thinking about people they'd lost. I know I would appreciate that. "Um, how about… Diana Costa-Brown?" I remember that name being mentioned with him once, and it sounded familiar for some reason.

Dick snorted as Bruce paused mid-stride.

"Well, I do remember her dressing up a few times…" Dick said significantly.

Bruce shook his head and kept going. It was clear he had decided to simply ignore Dick's commentary that time. "I suppose now would be a good time tell you that attempting to guess a hero's or a vigilante's secret identity is considered rude," he told me.

Dick coughed, covering his mouth with a fist and said "Hypocrite."

Bruce glanced back from the front of our group as he reached the doorway into the room with the exercise equipment. "I never said that I disapproved, just that it's considered rude."

"True," Dick acknowledged as he passed into the next room as well.

I reached to doorway and paused to look around. I wasn't an expert in weight machines and the like, but I could tell that there was a large variety of machines, at least a few dozen. Each one was different, and it looked like each machine did something different. Several clearly looked like they were for leg muscles even if I wasn't exactly sure how they worked while one was a straight-backed seat with square pads on arms to either side of it. The arms were then attached to weights behind the seat.

Bruce turned to me and saw the machine I was looking at. He pointed his cane at it and said, "That's a butterfly machine. It's for exercising one's pectorals. It's not particularly special aside from the above average durability and higher number of weights. A lot of this equipment is similar to what a normal gym would have, but designed for being super powered individuals with a variety of abilities. Sometimes custom equipment has to be designed if a local League member has powers which would interfere with using the standard equipment, yet they still want to exercise."

I nodded. "That's copacetic."

"Oh god another," Dick said with mock horror. At our looks, he held up his hands. "Uh, nothing."

Bruce shook his head and continued the tour. He pointed out the more specialized machines, but didn't spend much time explaining them aside from the basics as they had instructions already printed. Once we were done with that he came back to the weapons and gear section in front of the Danger Room and explained that this was where all of the newly developed equipment was sent for field testing. This included some of the gear that I might end up using when I was ready for my costume.

"I think you'll be doing most of your equipment training at the local League's Danger Room though," Dick commented at one point. "After all, it will be easier to safely explain to them why some kid's showing up to play with bat themed gear while Batgirl runs around the city at night. Oh, that reminds me,"he said, turning to Bruce, "are you going to have her patrol regularly?"

"It will be good experience for her," he replied.

"I suppose it's important for a rookie to experience, but our biggest advantage was taking the time to strike a specific targets," Dick replied. "The night long stakeouts are just as important, if not more."

Bruce nodded in assent and looked at me. "Patience is an important part of our methods."

"Don't worry, I'll be careful and patient," I assured him.

"Never say don't worry to him," Dick told me, "he's always preparing for the worst anyway. He's almost as paranoid as the Question."

Bruce looked at him questioningly, "By the way, have you seen him recently?"

Dick shook his head. "The last I heard, he, Huntress and the rest of their merry band were going off the grid to hunt down something or other. Something about what happened sixteen years ago?"

Bruce frowned. "Many things happened sixteen years ago."

"Yeah, there was their little raid on the Assassins, that army of undead knights in France, and what went down in Russia," Dick agreed, "plus a bunch of other stuff too if we're including Constantine and the rest."

I frowned at the familiar names. Question was the renowned conspiracy theorist hero who was easily one of the more controversial heroes simply because of his beliefs. Apparently even with how lax the mods normally were on PHO, the largest forum on parahumans and the super powered in general, he had still been suspended for starting heated arguments due to his insistence on the existence of vast conspiracies. He and the somewhat worrying number of people who believed him all claimed this was a sign of 'Their' attempts to suppress the truth.

I wasn't familiar with Constantine, but I recognized the name from somewhere. I'd have to look him up later. Or ask now. Whichever works, I supposed.

"Constantine?" I asked.

Dick looked back at me and explained, "He's an investigator on the supernatural side of things. For the past decade or so he's been working with the Question and some others as the group that deals with the really weird stuff. They have a habit of vanishing off the face of the Earth from time to time or getting involved in inexplicable happenstance."

"They are a small group that calls themselves the Justice League Dark," Bruce clarified. "The Question and John Constantine became involved in stopping a magical conspiracy in the Scottish highlands. After taking it down they decided to form a team specializing in hunting down villains that the Justice League doesn't normally find out about until after they become a major problem."

"There've been more than a few conspiracies to summon something or use some sort of obviously evil artifact here in Gotham alone," Dick added. "We've been able to stop most of them from getting out of hand, but it doesn't always work out, and we're the guys that specialize in gathering intel and being prepared. Other cities have had worse problems with that sort of thing, like the time a cabal of vampires summoned some fish-people monsters and wrecked the French Quarter in New Orleans."

I vaguely remembered that from a documentary of the religious Bible Belt hero team Haven, and then another piece of information clicked into place in my mind. "Wasn't that the one led by a disco robot claiming to be Dracula?" I asked.

Dick shrugged. "Pretty much every vampire story I've heard of involves someone claiming to be Dracula, but yeah, that one stood out for me."

"Despite how that sounds, don't underestimate vampires," Bruce warned. "Even if they all insist that they are each the real Dracula, they can pose a serious problem unless they are tracked down and stopped quickly."

"True, and I think Question suggested once that Dracula is in fact a vampire hive mind, so be on the watch for that," Dick agreed.

"Oh-kay," I said.

"The biggest advantage is that the book actually covers their weaknesses and they're almost all insufferably arrogant so they have a hard time working together when one of them isn't clearly superior to the others in terms of power," Dick continued. "That and they're rare."

"Yes, the last time there was an outbreak of vampirism was in Ethiopia back in 2003," Bruce informed me. "The Justice League's been working with Toybox, the CDC and the WHO to track and contain the spread of vampirism while developing cures. Star Labs was the first one to develop a cure that could work in the early stages of the disease, but as of yet the later ones are difficult to reverse without magic."

"That's good," I said.

"Yes, now let's set up your WayneCorp account," Bruce said, leading us to the consoles that controlled the course. There he helped me set up my account, which the WayneCorp IT staff had already created. Apparently I would get my on the job training later, so they simply helped me find the basics for how to use the Danger Room and check the calendar. Bruce told me that he would have my training regimen posted by the time I got out of school tomorrow.

After that I showered to get off the dried sweat while Dick and Bruce remained in the Danger Room to discuss matters. Once I was done I changed back into my old clothes and went to meet them.

"So, how was your first day?" Dick asked as we started walking back through the locker room.

I shrugged. "The course was harder than I expected, but I think I did well enough. I'm looking forward to the rest."

Dick chuckled. "That's good, because Bruce here can be a bit sadistic in his training regimens."

"You need to be prepared," Bruce explained.

"Yeah, but I don't imagine being a super hero without powers would be easy, so I'm okay with that," I replied.

"Good," Bruce said.

"Just hold onto that thought in the future," Dick replied, "and remember that however bad your training gets, it can always be worse."

"There's no point to training if it isn't hard," Bruce commented.

"True enough," Dick agreed. "Oh, and see if you can find Shadow Stalker at some point since I'll be heading to Bludhaven tomorrow before a trip to Quebec. I've looked at Bruce's file on her and she's basically Huntress with shadow powers and without the skimpy costume and maturity, so she'd make a good sidekick."

"She's shot people in the hands and feet, which can lead to permanent damage and unless she's careful her crossbows could cause mortal injuries," Bruce countered.

"Yes, and we've never done that," Dick replied with wry sarcasm. "She's just a kid and you're annoyed that she's stealing your gimmick of being dark and edgy." He turned to be once we reached the exit and the bulkhead started opening. "It'll be hard and I don't expect you to do it until you actually know how to fight, but when you start going out on patrols at night you should see if you can find her." He leaned back and hummed. "Maybe if we got Huntress to public come to Gotham we'd get her to show up. She's got to be a fan."

"You said we haven't heard from Huntress, so we'll have to resort to finding Shadow Stalker ourselves unless she decides to come in on her own," I said.

I saw Bruce watching me speculatively. Was he waiting for something?

"Um, we could make an announcement and ask her to come forward?" I suggested. "Maybe say she can work with the new Batgirl?"

"Well, you're not Batgirl yet and we want to avoid associating your civilian identity with the newly recruited super hero," Dick argued as he started walking down the hallway. "Even if the police are keeping your name confidential, it's better to limit the possible association between the girl that helped Batman and Batgirl."

I frowned. "Well, they can't keep it completely secret since it's already in the news."

"Misdirection can be just as important as absolute secrecy," Bruce explained. "Some might draw that conclusion, but there won't be any significant evidence to support it."

"Unless you're the Question, anyway," Dick commented.

"Well, how about we say that one of the female members of the Bat Family is in town and looking to meet her," I suggested. "Um, that is what you call it right? Bat Family? Because I heard someone call it Bat Incorporated on PHO, well, I read it called that on PHO anyway. We could word it vaguely and post it on their connections forum, or just have Batman post a message asking to meet her." I looked at Dick. "Or Nightwing could do it, and say he'd like to meet tonight."

"I leave in the morning though, and in my old age I need my beauty sleep," Dick replied.

My look turned to one of disbelief. "Beauty sleep?" I was at a loss as to what to say to that. I knew he wasn't being serious but I couldn't come up with an immediate retort.

"I'm afraid it's a lost cause," Bruce remarked as he pressed a wall panel and the hidden elevator doors opened.

"Ouch," Dick said, clutching his hands over his heart and leaning against the wall of the corridor beside the elevator. "You sadistic old man."

Bruce ignored his theatrics and stepped into the elevator. I followed him in, stepping around Dick.

When he saw we weren't paying attention, Dick muttered and straightened as Bruce pushed the lobby button and then the close door button on the elevator's panel.

"Hey!" Dick called out as he stuck his hand in front of the closing elevator's door. "I'll do it. In fact," he said, pulling out a smart phone, "I'll post it right now."

He quickly set to work typing away on the phone while the elevator doors shut. When I heard a hum coming from the elevator's walls I was worried, especially since I didn't feel any movement. However, Bruce looked at me and explained, "This is a special elevator maintained by our Advanced Technology division's Tinker tech. It features inertial dampeners to make the ride smoother."

"Okay," I said. "That's cool."

"Yep," Dick agreed absentmindedly.

A moment later we reached the ground floor and Dick held his finger on the close door button. "Okay, so I've just posted this request in the connections forum for Gotham: 'Hello Shadow Stalker, I am Nightwing and I am currently in town for the time being dealing with something beyond my dear partner in crime fighting, Robin – I mean Armsmaster. I'll be in costume at Cathedral Square at 11pm to midnight tonight and I'd like to meet you since you are a new hero in my old hometown. Sincerely, Nightwing.'"

Bruce gave him a disapproving look, but he merely smiled and stepped away from the elevator's buttons.

"You're not actually going to post that are you?" I asked.

"I'm not going to post it, because I already have," Dick replied as the elevator doors opened onto an empty corridor behind the security office. "And if you're worried about Armsmaster's feelings, don't be. After all, it's the responsibility of older members of families to relentlessly tease the younger. As the newest member of our little Family, the position of acceptable target now falls to you. Like I said, I'm sure the rest of us will be showing up to make things interesting for you." He held out his hand to me. "Anyway, it was a pleasure to meet you Taylor, but we both have to be off. Good luck."

"Thank you," I said, taking his hand and shaking it.

Dick nodded to Bruce and walked away with a wave.

Bruce stepped out of the elevator after him and I followed as well. "I trust you'll be able to get home safe?"

"Yes, I replied with a nod. "I'll go call my dad at the front desk for a pickup."

He nodded. "Good, remember your schedule." He took out a smart phone from his pocket and handed it to me. On the back it had the WayneCorp logo. "As my personal assistant, you'll need a way to stay in touch. With this you'll be able to remotely log onto our servers, so be sure to keep this safe and use a secure password."

I looked down at the phone in my hands. It was surprisingly thin and light, despite being wide-screened. My mother had died because of using a cell phone, and I knew my dad would be uncomfortable with my having one… but if something happened I might need to be able to reach Bruce Wayne, or he might need to reach me. I was going to become a super hero after all.

Dick, Nightwing, had just said I was a member of their 'family,' so maybe I already counted as a hero, and heroes weren't afraid of cell phones. I clenched the cell phone in my hand and nodded with determination to Bruce, before putting it away in my pocket next to my wallet so that my dad hopefully wouldn't notice.

He raised an eyebrow. "I meant now."

"Oh, um, right," I stammered as I took the phone back out and turned it on, hoping my embarrassment wasn't too obvious.

"Call your father and set the phone up," Bruce ordered. "And try to get in forty minutes of cardiovascular exercise like running. You need to get started on your physical training immediately."

"Yes, sir," I replied as I tried to make sense of how to work the phone's interface.

"And go to the security station. The head of security, Sirius Wright, can help you set it up after you've made the call."

"Right!" I said, straightened my back and nodded sharply. "See you tomorrow!"

"Good bye," he replied evenly before returning to the elevator.

I returned to the security office and with Sirius's help I was able to set up the phone quicker than I expected, and he even showed me how to fold the phone into its compact carrying form, which apparently was one of their newest models based on Tinker tech. Once that was done, I put my new phone in my pocket and went to the front desk. I didn't want to call him using my new cell phone. In fact, I wanted to keep it a secret from my dad since he would be uncomfortable with it. I wasn't going to lie to him, just not mention it.

After the receptionist saw my badge, he let me use their phone and five rings in Dad picked up the other end.

"Hey, Dad," I said. "I'm ready to get picked up."

"I'll be right over then," he replied. "How was it?"

I smiled into the phone. "Good, very good. I think I'm going to like working here."

+JLL+

Aquarium Special Issue

Cover: A bloody corpse lies tied to a chair with a steak knife lodged in its eye. Blood drips across its scaly skin and prison uniform. The corpse is seated in front of a table, and three men similarly dressed in prison uniforms are seated at the other four sides of the table, each with a plate of steak, mashed potatoes and broccoli in front of him along with glasses of wine. Directly across from the corpse is a dark skinned man with greying close-cropped hair and a handlebar mustache. This man is sitting straight and is holding a steak knife in one hand and a fork in the other. To the left of the corpse sits a pale skinned man was long hair that extends past the shoulder and a short, well-groomed beard that is a mix of dark brown and grey. He is leaning forward slightly as his own steak knife is in his steak and he is pointing to the man to the right of the corpse while the man on the left's mouth is open slightly to talk. The man on the corpse's right is leaning back in his chair smirking while swirling his wine glass in his right hand. A fork is visible beside his plate but a knife is not. Small red lightning sparks trail between a spot beside the corpse and the man to its right. Behind them all are a variety of other people in prison uniforms, all standing at attention along the bare metallic walls.

+JLL+

He sat in the metal frame chair watching the news on the block's television, his trimmed black mustache and hair flecked with grey. This was _his_ block, for all that _that_ had any meaning. He repressed a sigh. This was not a world, a universe, that rewarded the soft, and so he had been hard, ruthless. Yet he had still ended up here. He looked down at the meal before him. It was a disappointingly cheap steak alongside equally low quality mashed potatoes and boiled broccoli with a side of cheap wine to help it go down.

"Something wrong?" his companion across the table and to his right asked. He wore the same uniform, if with the leaves rolled back. Unlike the first man, his companion also had long, dark, hair that extended past his shoulder and a close trimmed beard, both streaked with grey, in addition to his lighter skin tone.

"We are here, are we not?" the first man replied.

"True, but weren't you the one to say that it was our failures that showed who we were?" his companion asked.

"I believe that's what you said when you killed Murderbeam," his second companion agreed from the man's left. He was the slimmest of them, even taking into account the first companion's effeminate appearance. Also unlike the others, he kept his face completely clean shaven. "I found it insightful, though I do agree that this all does get tedious from time to time."

"That's understandable," the first companion mused, "you are a speedster after all. Our situation is disagreeable with us all. Not being able to run free must grate."

The third man leaned back in his chair and sighed. "That it does, but I think I've managed to find ways to enjoy myself." He tilted his head in the same direction as the television.

All three were sitting at a table such that they could all look in the direction of the television while they ate and talked. Normally they would have sat around a circular table forming an equidistance triangle, but this was a special occasion, hence them breaking out their limited supplies of wine.

"I admit, I did initially not peg you as the type," the second man confessed to the third.

"Really?" the first man asked. "After everything he did in pursuit of his grudge with the Flash?"

"From everything I've seen, he was very practical in pursuit of his vendetta," the second man explained before taking a sip of his wine.

"I don't like him, but I'm no fool," the third man agreed as he idly picked up his knife and spun it through his fingers with increasing speed. "Unfortunately his friends were too much for me to handle. I'm not ashamed to admit it."

"It is a rare man who can seriously oppose Superman, Wonder Woman or the Manhunter, let alone all three at the same time," the first man agreed. "That's why I put so much effort into distracting them when I made my move against the Atlantean. If my son hadn't betrayed me for the heroes I would have won."

The second man nodded. "We do our best for our children, but ultimately it is their choice whether to follow in our footsteps."

The first man nodded in agreement as he speared a piece of steak with his fork and began to cut himself another mouthful. "I wanted him to be strong. I suppose standing up to me took its own strength for all that I detest his choice."

"Look on the bright side," the third man said, "if your children had followed your footsteps, they would probably be here with us now." His knife was now being twirled by his fingers fast enough for the rush of rapidly displaced air to be audible to his two comfortably seated companions for dinner.

The second man scooped up some mashed potatoes and ate them in contemplative silence while the first man chewed on his slice of steak.

The third man shrugged and grabbed the blurring knife by the handle, stopping its motion with a snap before he too set to slicing his steak. "I never had children but while I'm sure you miss them dearly, at the same time I can't help thinking that no matter how little you think of their life choices, their continued freedom is far more preferable to having the chance to see them regularly."

The second man swallowed and nodded in assent. "True, though I wish I had the chance to speak with my daughter again, I do not wish to see her end up _here_."

"I would prefer to see him as well, but outside of this prison," the first man agreed as soon as he could politely speak again.

The third man inserted his mouthful of steak and chewed it in a blur while setting down his knife and fork. He then picked up his own cup of wine and swirled it experimentally.

"All of us would prefer to be out of here," the second man said while gesturing at the bodyguards that stood silently at the edges of the room.

"Especially our friend there, I wager," the third man said, nodding in the direction of the television, which was now displaying a panel discussing the ramifications of Batman's abrupt return from retirement. Upon hearing muffled sounds he smiled meaninglessly and waved the fingers of his left hand in the direction of the television. "Hello, yes, we're including you in this conversation even though you aren't much of a talker right now."

The second man lightly dabbed his mouth with his napkin and said, "I don't do displays like this, typically."

"Oh, so then how did you punish failures back in the day?" the first man asked. "I recall you were quite feared in Gotham, that the crime families had to pay you their due."

The third man scoffed. "Intimidating normals into complying isn't hard when you have powers, especially ones as dangerous as ours. Captain Cold was able to stand off against a coalition of the local unpowered gangs back in the day, and he's second rate at best. Not to mention the Joker."

"Please don't while I'm eating," the second man said. "And as for your question," he continued while looking at the first man, "I did not punish through grand displays. If a servant failed me, I killed them. Whatever it was, they never did it again."

"If you don't mind my asking," the third man said before continuing without waiting for a reply, "how did you ever get any loyalty whatsoever?"

"Excuse me?" the second man asked in surprise.

The third man flickered a hand in the first man's direction. "If you kill anyone who fails you, then even if you hide the body people will find out that he disappeared and start to think the worst has happened which would have been absolutely true. They will become afraid of failing you, but also afraid of working for such an unforgiving boss. Black Manta at least understands the value of forgiving mistakes and failures."

"Are you really one to talk?" the first man asked with an eyebrow raised.

The third man shrugged. "I always used proxies or allies when I needed minions. I preferred working alone. Few can keep up with me."

The first man let out a soft chuckle. "Really?"

The third man shrugged as he lounged back in his chair, once again twirling his knife. "Yes, what's the problem? Not up to speed?"

The second man held up a hand. "Before you try to show how quick-witted you are and make another pun, let's return to our previous topic. I did not intentionally seek out to cause fear. Instead I merely thought that it was a simple way to solve problems."

"Maybe that's why they were able to dismantle your operations," the first man suggested, "people who were captured or who knew that they had failed in your eyes would have no incentive to remain loyal when they knew disappearance and a shallow grave awaited them upon their return to your side. Turning on you or running away were their best options, even if you could win most of the battles you fought. I worked to foster loyalty among my men, and it worked out for me. It's not often that a Tinker, even if he has secondary powers, is able to lead his own group and make it a serious concern."

"True," the third man agreed, "I remember hearing about your exploits from the news and through the Society. Quite impressive for a man who styled himself Aquaman's nemesis."

"Styled?" the first man asked, incredulous annoyance clear in his voice, "I _was_ his nemesis. There was no one else who came as close as me to destroying him and his legacy, conquering Atlantis. I was the one who struggled against him the most, who achieved the most victories against him. No one else."

The third man hummed. "I suppose so. I guess that means that two out of three of us are nemeses of major villains." He looked at the second man. "You were notorious in Gotham, but out of everyone the Bat's faced you don't really rate as a nemesis. Especially since it wasn't him that took you out."

The second man frowned. "Why does being a 'nemesis' matter? I ruled most of Gotham when I was free, the Joker can't claim that."

"I remember him holding the city hostage a few times," the first man commented.

"Really?" the second man asked in surprise. "I wasn't aware of that."

"No, no, you just ask after your daughter," the third man replied.

The second man scowled.

"Speaking of, I happen to know something that might interest you," the third man said with a knowing smirk.

The second man narrowed his eyes. "What do you want?"

The third man started juggling his spinning knife. "Dibs. And a favor, in the future when we get out."

The first man scoffed. "Get out? This is the Birdcage, the most secure prison on or near the Earth. How do you expect to get out?"

The third man chuckled darkly as he leaned forwards, catching his knife and resting his elbows on the table to either side of his plate. "You'll know it when it happens. So, like I said, a favor when we get out." He looked around the room significantly. "And we _all_ will get out, or at least, those of us alive when it happens."

"I think I'd like more information on how you expect us to get out of here," the second man said. He looked up at the ceiling. "Unless our warden could be a problem."

"If you try to break out, this whole place could blow up, and they'd make sure we wouldn't survive that," the first man added, and threatening undercurrent to his voice as he leaned in too.

"I suppose I should clarify," the third man said, "we'll be let out. Call it a premonition, but we'll get out and when we do I want you to help me destroy the Flash, no matter what."

"No matter what?" the first man asked incredulously. "Even if this premonition is accurate, there's no way that they would let us out for anything less than the end of the world, and even then they have Superman and the Martian Manhunter. What could possibly be worth letting us out?"

The third man frowned. "There are plenty of precognitive Thinkers of the parahuman, magical or metahuman variety. I have it from a very reliable source. But you're probably right that it'd be serious." He locked eyes with the second man. "However serious it is, I imagine you'll want to see your daughter. I can help with that, maybe tell you more."

"Why are you making this offer now?" the second man asked, half-standing up from his chair. "And if you know how much this means to me, then you know that I might consider less polite methods of getting answers." The ever-present tension rose to palpable levels.

The third man held up his hands. "I was bored and I'm terrible at keeping secrets. Just look at Jay's wife. Oh, wait. She's dead. Like his daughter."

The second man narrowed his eyes and clenched his hands.

"Do you really want to antagonize him? Me?" the first man asked, right hand holding his own knife in a firm grip as the bodyguards around the walls subtly prepared themselves for a fight.

The third man sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I'm getting claustrophobic, and knowing that I'll get out isn't making it easier, just the opposite. Promise me help in making the Flash suffer and give me someone else to take out my boredom on, and I'll play nice."

"Fine, if they're desperate enough to let us out, then they won't miss one old man," the first man said, hoping to defuse the situation. He didn't actually believe that they would get out, but he would rather let his dinner companion self-destruct in his own block than in here.

A sinister smile of anticipation spread across the third man's face. "Excellent. You too, Marquis?"

The second man continued to level a glare at the third man for another second before sitting back down. "Very well, so what is this news of my daughter?"

The third man leaned back with a triumphant smirk. "One of my new inmates heard several years ago that a young woman by the name of Amelia Lavere just got married. He tried to crash the wedding before being sent here, but Red Robin stopped him."

The second man, called Marquis, frowned. "Which of your people did this?"

The third man shook his right index finger at Marquis. "That will cost you extra. I like having people in my cell block. Also, I have a feeling our wonderful warden won't be as inclined to send people my way if I just hand them over to be killed."

"They only send you people when all the other options are worse," the first man replied.

"Isn't that true for all of us?" the third man replied.

"Some more than others."

The third man shrugged. "Perhaps. I believe we have more pressing matters however. May I?" He balanced the knife so that its edge was between his fingers and the hilt was pointed towards the ceiling.

"Be my guest," the first man replied.

The third man flipped the knife back so that he was holding its hilt and then threw it, vanishing from his chair to reappear before the fourth person at the table before the knife had traveled a foot. The third man brutally tore the gag out of the fourth person's mouth and jerked the person's head into the path of the knife, which sank into his eye. "Heh." The third man then shoved the now dead body so that it tipped over in its chair to fall to the floor. Before it hit he was back in his chair holding his cup of wine. "Brief, but satisfying." He sighed. "Do you think that sent the right message?"

"Making it longer would have just been a waste of time," Marquis replied before he too sipped his wine.

"I personally dislike eating to the sound of screams," the first man added. "If anyone else causes us a problem in here, we can just kill them."

"My philosophy was that people don't cause problems if they're dead," Marquis agreed. "It served me well."

"I don't find that to always be true," the third man said, "but it does work a surprising amount of the time, doesn't it?" He smirked while using his remaining mashed potatoes to sketch the shape of what looked to Marquis like a design with two parallel lines going from the bottom of his plate to touch either side of a circle. From that point of contact with the circle, the lines then continued straight up parallel for a short distance before moving diagonally away from each other about an inch before returning to being parallel with each other until the lines reach the other edge of the plate. Meanwhile the first man noticed a faint flicker of red in the third man's eyes as the other man played with his food. "For everything else, there's always the simple expedience of gratuitous violence."


	6. Power Girl 2 & By Star's Fire 2

Reply to Zarthrax: Thank you, and I've got something _special_ planned for that. It's a ways out though, so don't except it anytime soon.

* * *

 _ **Power Girl #2**_

Cover: I blond teenaged girl is sitting up on a vermillion couch with her left hand between her face and a bright circular light set above her feet. The rest of the room is cast into darkness save for a door at the far side of the room and to the right of the girl. Standing in the shadowy doorway are two silhouettes, one slim and masculine, the other slender and feminine.

+JLL+

I woke up to a bright light. For a moment, I thought I had died until I noticed the lumpy bed I was laying on and how hungry I felt. I was positively ravenous. I picked up quiet murmuring off to the side, which stopped as soon as I noticed it. Where was I? What happened? I think someone found me, but who?

"Hello," a soft female voice said as two pairs of footsteps approached me from my left.

I opened my eyes, but the bright light was enough to practically blind me and a squeezed them shut again as I groaned in response.

"Not feeling great, huh?" she asked.

I shook my head.

"Well, you should eat something then," she said. There was a brief pause. "Get her something to eat, he should have _something_ in the kitchen."

"Really?" a man asked. "I thought he just lived on spite and bullheadedness alone." I heard him take a step back. "Okay, okay, I'm going. Anything you want, kiddo?"

"No…" I replied through a parched throat.

"A glass of water or orange juice," the woman suggested.

"Got it," the man said before walking away.

I turned my head towards the woman and held up a shaking hand between my face and the light. Once that was done I opened my eyes to look at her. She had taken a seat on a metal stool and was watching me with green eyes framed by mousy red hair. She wore a white shirt, a verdant green vest, and blue slacks with pinstripes. Her hands were crossed under her chest and in her right hand was clutched a green mask of what looked like leaves. I guessed that she was in her late twenties to early thirties.

She smiled warmly at me. "I suppose introductions are in order," she said before switching the mask to her left and holding out her right. "I'm Amy, nice to meet you, even if the circumstances aren't that great."

I reach out to her with my right hand and shook hers. "Victoria. You saved me?"

She nodded, warm smile still on her face. "Yeah, let me guess: this was your first time using your powers in a fight?"

I twitched, my hand clenching a bit and Amy wincing. I immediately let go of her hand. "Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Don't worry about it," she assured me. "I'm fine. You're not the first person with super strength to shake my hand. Flying brick, right?"

"Yeah." _Lot of good it did me, or that woman I left in the alley…_

"Hey, don't feel bad about whatever happened," Amy said to me, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"Why not?" I asked, looking down at the floor. "I tried to save her – a woman being mugged – and ended up nearly getting killed. I'm a flying brick, Wonder Woman type, like you said. How does that even happen?"

"Have you ever fought with your powers before? Or even fought at all?" she asked.

I shook my head. "I learned some self-defense, but this was my first night with powers. Fat lot of good it did."

She squeezed my shoulder gently, but I didn't quite feel the pressure on my skin. "You shouldn't feel bad, Victoria. Even with powers, it takes courage and dedication to be a hero and stand up to people who want to hurt others."

I sighed. "I know… I just wish I were better at it."

She leaned forward so that her face was in front of mine. "Everyone wishes that, and you're just getting started. Do you think Superman was always some unstoppable hero? That he really could save everyone? No, he failed, and even now he doesn't save everyone even though he tries. He even gets hurt."

I frown and look at her in surprise. "What?"

She nodded. "It's true. Doomsday nearly killed him, and back when Lex Luthor was President in the nineties, he put together this alien tech powered armor that could shoot beams capable of hurting him. I actually had to heal him after a blast caught him in the chest."

I opened my mouth in shock. Everyone knew about his fight with Doomsday, and there were others who found ways to hurt him with things like sonic cannons or copious amounts of electricity, but Lex Luthor nearly killed him with an energy beam? What was he shooting?

"How?" she asked rhetorically, an eyebrow raised. "I'm not sure, but it was green and the blast was enough to put Superman down until I healed him. Luthor and his army of 'heroes' didn't last very long after Manhunter and Wonder Woman showed up with what had to be almost a quarter of the League's entire worldwide strength. Of course, if Congress hadn't seen fit to impeach him and try him and his cronies for what they'd been up to I imagine things would have been bad for us all."

I remembered learning about that in history class. Luthor had tried to use fear of the super powered to try and reign in heroes and the Justice League, but other countries had seen it as efforts to create a government controlled army of super heroes and the Justice League had been able to convince Congress to water down the legislation to just registering super hero identities with the PRT. After that, Luthor had let his apparently massive grudge against Superman get the better of him and recruited super villains and mercenaries the world over to ambush the Man of Steel in a battle that leveled half of Washington DC where Luthor injected himself with something that made him as strong as Superman, if only for a short time. During the battle, Batman recorded and broadcast footage of his ranting confession of staging events all to kill Superman and with that Congress decided that he wasn't fit to remain in office any longer.

Now he was sitting in a Maximum Security prison somewhere, if not the Birdcage itself.

"I don't really know what he used in the suit though," Amy confessed. "I think it blew up around the time he used the Superman serum."

"But you healed him?" I asked. "Superman?"

Amy straightened and shrugged. "It was better than letting that megalomaniac with a god complex win. But, in fairness he probably would have recovered in a few minutes either way given his regeneration. I just thought that getting him back on his feet quicker would be a good idea."

"You telling her about that time you watched Superman beaten up by Baldie?" the man asked as he walked back in carrying a tray of food. "I heard it was pretty exciting."

"Yeah, exciting isn't always good," Amy replied to him as he walked up. She turned back to me and set her hands on my shoulders. "Sit up and eat," she told me. "You'll be hungry."

As if on que, my stomach rumbled. I sat up and the man set his tray on my lap. It had a banana, two apples, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a glass of orange juice.

"Thanks," I told him before devouring the sandwich in just a few bites; dignity such as it was forgotten in my hunger. It was delicious, thought I don't know if it was actually that good or that it was the first thing I had eaten in however long I'd been out. Once I finished off the sandwich, I gulped down the orange juice only to stop when I saw their amused looks. I flushed in embarrassment and Amy laughed.

"Don't mind us," the man said. "Oh, and I'm Ray, nice to meet you." He held out his hand. He seemed somewhat scruffy with his unkempt dark hair, rough around the edges as though he was uncomfortable in his business casual white shirt and dark grey suit pants. The stained lab coat he wore looked much more lived in.

I shook his hand, more carefully this time. "Victoria. Thanks for helping me."

He shook his head and held up his hands. "Oh, no. That was all Amy here." He put his left hand on Amy's shoulder and she put on of her hands on top of his with a smile. "She's a miracle worker. Not that you needed a miracle."

"I was almost dead," I replied solemnly, my appetite gone as my gaze fell to the tray.

"Hey," Ray said, "everyone has bad days. As long as you don't end up going a villain and covering a city in vines or something." He glanced at Amy. "Though using only strategically placed leaves and vines for your costume makes up for it." He then looked back at me and cleared his throat. "Um, not that you should wear that sort of thing, Victoria. You're too young for that."

Amy looked at him archly before leaning towards him and quietly murmuring in his ear. "If I'd known you liked that costume, I might have worn it more often." She straightened and looked at me. "But, yes. Not the proudest days of my life."

"You were a villain?" I asked. And then it clicked. "You were Poison Ivy! You're Panacea!"

Amy sighed and nodded. "I had to ask someone good with image to help me show I'd turned over a new leaf -" Ray interrupted with a barked laugh and Amy shot him a glare. "And now I'm Panacea. That's not a proper name for probably the most powerful biokinetic on Earth."

Ray leaned towards me, held up a hand to cover his mouth from Amy and stage whispered. "You should have seen the costume he nearly made her wear."

Amy shuddered. "Going back to Arkham would have been better than wearing that."

"Arkham?" I asked.

She sighed and nodded. "Every parahuman goes through something pretty traumatic to Trigger, and to quote certain tosser you should never meet, 'All power has a price.'" Her quote included an lackluster attempt at a British accent. "The point is that everyone suffers bad days. It's part of the package of being a getting powers, of being a hero, but you don't _have_ to be one if you don't want to."

"I do," I replied. It's what I'd been raised to do. It's what was expected of me. It's what I'd always wanted.

She sighed. "Okay, then why don't you finish eating -" She held up a hand. "I know that you don't _feel_ hungry, but you are. Eat, your body needs the fuel." I looked at the banana and reluctantly picked it up. I looked up to see her smiling encouragingly, so I peeled the banana and took a bite. "Good, now finish up and we can call your parents."

I forced myself to swallow.

"We can save that for later," Ray suggested. "I'm sure they're worried, but if you want we can wait."

I sighed and took another bite, chewed and swallowed. "I should call them. How long have I been out?"

"Only about twenty minutes," Amy admitted. "I just think that you might want to call them."

I shook my head. "I can just fly back later." _I don't think they'd even notice._ "I need to pick something up from school anyway, my clothes." It was at that point that I consciously recognized that I wasn't wearing my basketball team uniform. Instead, I was wearing a shapeless green Tee Shirt and hiker shorts. I looked at the clothes I was wearing and then back up at Amy and Ray in question.

She smiled. "You needed something to wear. I'm afraid you'll need new gym clothes."

I looked back down at my clothes. "I don't think I'll need new ones, actually."

"Yeah," Ray agreed, "Brutes aren't allowed to play in normal-only sports. Well, I remember that case where they said that people couldn't discriminate on that basis, but that hasn't ended 'polite suggestions' that parahumans leave sports teams."

That really was the case. I remember reading about a kid in Boston, going by Weld, who had tried to join one of his school's sports teams and been denied even though they had space, just because he was made of metal. Did I really think getting my powers would solve anything at school? If it didn't change anything there, would it actually help with my parents? Dad would still be depressed, and Mom would still be busy with being a hero. Well, she might have more time for me since I'd be on at least a few of the same patrols as her. But would that matter? Was silently following Mom around for people to take pictures of us worth it?

"Victoria?" Ray asked. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I replied before taking another bite.

"Okay…"

I silently ate the rest of the banana and set down the peel. I picked up the apple and turned it around in my hands.

Amy clapped her hands together and stood up. "You know what? This calls for chocolate ice cream. Barely escaping death always does." I looked up at her in surprise.

"It's practically a tradition," Ray agreed. "I don't know if he actually has any though."

Amy shrugged. "He's rich and Tim and Colin are always dropping by here to nag him and eat his food. He's got to have _something_."

Ray raised an eyebrow. " _Colin_?" he asked, radiating skepticism. "Colin dropping by to raid the Old Man's fridge?" He laughed. "I _need_ to see this happen."

Amy laughed too. "He doesn't come by just for food. That 'wouldn't be efficient.'" She took hold of the tray and smiled at me. "Come on, Victoria. Let's see what he's got in his freezer."

I returned her smile. I didn't know who Colin was, but I got the impression that he sounded like Armsmaster. Imagining him dropping by someone's house to raid there fridge was pretty funny. "Okay, sounds like fun."

"Great!" Amy exclaimed. She turned to Ray and handed him the tray, then turned back to me and took my hand. "Let's go."

We walked through large hallways with tiled slate grey floors and dark mahogany walls and black ceilings. It was a grand, gloomy place full of old Gothic decorations and solemn portraits and other grim paintings on the walls. Wherever we were was old, and definitely a mansion of some sort. As we walked through the hallway, I looked behind me to see a wide and tall glass window looking out into the night with the towers of Gotham glowing faintly in the distance.

 _We're in the Wayne Mansion_. I stumbled when I realized where we were; only avoiding falling on my face by virtue of being able to fly.

Amy turned back to me, an inquisitive expression on her face and the corner of her mouth turned up. "Something wrong?"

"I… we're in Wayne Mansion," I said. "You know him?"

Amy shrugged. "He's my sort-of grandfather, since he was like a father to my own adopted father Timothy Drake. So, I guess that means I have five grandfathers: my two biological ones, my two foster grandfathers, and my sort-of grandfather."

"So who does that make your sort-of grandmother?" Ray asked form slightly ahead of us.

Amy pursed her lips in thought a moment before shrugging and continuing on. "I don't actually know. _Maybe_ Barbara?" she suggested uncertainly. "No idea, and not really important."

"You don't know?" I asked in confusion.

"Old Bruce was a bit of playboy back in the day," Amy explained. "In fact, I'm here because he wanted some help getting back in the game as it were." She looked back at me and winked.

"What do you-" I started to asked before it clicked. "Oh. _Oh_. Ew ew ew! I did not need to know that!"

Ray chuckled. "Yeah, she can heal and basically do reconstructive surgery and usually for money or real charity cases. Normally she doesn't help out people just for cosmetic things, or well, _recreational_ things, but he's her sort-of grandfather, so…"

"Ew! Please, let's just drop it," I pleaded. "I don't want to think about _that_."

Ray started cackling and Amy joined him in laughter until someone cleared their throat.

"Hello, Ray, Amy, Victoria," a man said from behind us in a cold tone of voice that sent chills down my spine.

I turned around, tensed and ready to fight or run.

It was a tall, broad-shouldered old man in an expensive black suit with a grey undershirt. He wore a scowl like it had been born and died there, and his stark white hair was short and combed with simple elegance. I instantly recognized him for the charity banquets and major publicity events I'd gone to with my family. Bruce Wayne.

He glared at me for a moment before turning it on the others behind me, and I got the sense that he knew I had super powers and just didn't care. For some rich old man, he was surprisingly intimidating. He just had a certain presence in the way he carried himself, and he was not happy.

"You know her?" Ray asked, uncertainty in his voice. "Of course you do."

"I found her bleeding in the yard after she flew there," Amy explained, stepping forwards and to the side of me. "I healed her, but I think she needs some real medicine: chocolate ice cream."

He gave her a hard stare and then turned his scrutiny back on me. It was like he was staring into my soul, seeing everything I was, am being unimpressed. I suppose he had right to be, after all I was just some kid who nearly got herself killed after getting super powers, and he was a billionaire philanthropist who probably did more good in a day than I'd done in my entire life.

Something about his gave softened and he said, "Fine, but don't make a habit of this."

Amy pumped her right fist. "Yes!" She gestured to me and Bruce Wayne. "Come on. Let's break out the good stuff!" She started walking away and Bruce Wayne shook his head before slowly following.

I turned around and walked after Ray and Amy. After a few steps, she looked back over her shoulder and said, "And don't you complain about _us_ bringing random children and teenagers here and bringing them back to eat your food."

I looked at Amy in confusion, but she had already turned back around so I asked, "What?"

"That's basically what happened with Tim and Dick, his foster son," Ray explained without turning around.

"Oh," I said.

"It's more complicated than that," Bruce Wayne stated in annoyance.

"Yeah, if we just say that then it sounds like you were going around the city at night picking up kids and bringing them back to your mansion," Amy commented, but I got the sense she was only half joking.

He simply grunted in response.

 _It had_ _ **better**_ _be more complicated_ , I thought to myself. Things were already strange enough as it was.

The rest of the way through the mansion was short but quiet as we approached the large double doors to the kitchen. I found the silence somewhat uncomfortable, but couldn't muster anything to say. And judging by the décor, Bruce Wayne didn't mind brooding silence at all. Maybe he didn't actually need to eat since 'Tim' and 'Dick' were allegedly always eating his food, and he was really a vampire. I heard that they were always really melodramatic and they would probably love a place like this.

Ray and Amy each pushed open one of the doors and I stepping in after them. The kitchen was sized appropriately for the mansion with two long island counters going down the center only to be kept from connecting in the middle of the room so that people could waling from one side of the kitchen to the other without having to go all of the way to one end or another. Cupboards lined the walls and one of the biggest refrigerators I'd ever seen stood next to a large freezer. There were three other doorways leading into the kitchen, two off to the side, and one at the far end that looked out onto the dark gardens of the Wayne estate.

Amy gestured towards some cupboards. "Ray, get us some bowls and spoons. Bruce, you probably know where the ice cream scooper is, so why don't you fetch that. Victoria and I will get the ice cream."

Bruce Wayne didn't reply as Amy led me over to the freezer. She opened it and inside were rows of frozen meats, but it seemed that the top shelf was dedicated to several cartons of various flavors of ice cream. At a glance, I saw only five cartons, but the shelf was high enough up that I had trouble seeing all of them, so I floated up into the air to get a better look.

Seeing a triple fudge ice cream carton, I took it out. After all, who wouldn't want it?

"Good choice!" Amy agreed with a grin. "Open it up."

I did, and saw that several scoops had already been taken out of it, but most importantly the ice cream was covered in ice crystals. "Not good."

"Oh?" she asked.

"Check it out," I said, disappointed. I held it towards her.

"Looks like they don't visit often enough," Amy remarked. "I guess the only appropriate solution is to just have all of this before it gets worse."

I rolled my eyes. "Really, Amy?"

"I don't joke about fudge ice cream," she replied, her expression and tone dead serious for a moment before she cracked a smile. She looked back in the freezer and let out an "Ah hah!"

"What?" I asked as I saw out of the corner of my eye Bruce Wayne put his head in his left hand.

Smirking, Amy withdrew a carton with a black stylized bat silhouette with its wings spread on top of a bright yellow oval. "The Dark Fudge: The Chocolate you need; the Crunch you deserve."

"I wouldn't have pegged Bruce Wayne for such a big fan of Batman," I commented dryly. "Does he have the plushie too?"

"Helena got it for him one Christmas, you should have seen the look on his face when we ambushed him to make him open his present." Amy started cackling before setting the carton down on the counter and looked at her sort-of grandfather. "Tim must have gotten this for you."

"I can't believe Wonder Woman let that happen," Bruce Wayne muttered.

"She's part of the establishment, man," Ray replied as he walked over with four bowls and four spoons. "They may have opposed those Justice Lords' way of doing things in their Earth, but the Justice League is basically the foundation of the New World Order."

"Gift shop souvenirs and novelty ice creams are only the beginning," Amy solemnly agreed as she opened the carton and looked inside.

"It's only the beginning," I added.

"Too true," Amy said to me before looking back at the ice cream and saying, "Yep, this is in good condition."

I glanced meaningfully at Bruce Wayne. "I'm guessing he'll be wanting an extra big scoop?" I wasn't sure why Wayne was reacting with this distaste, but teasing him with Amy was pretty fun.

Amy laughed and agreed, "Oh, definitely. I'm sure he'll be devastated when we finish it off."

Bruce Wayne reluctantly walked over and offered the ice cream scooper. "Here."

Amy snatched it away from him with a grin and said, "Well, then let's get to serving. You'll be wanting some of The Dark Fudge?"

Bruce Wayne gave her a flat glare, which was a bit odd. Seriously, what did he have against Batman? Maybe he was just a really big Superman fan like me?

"I'll take that as a yes."

Amy started serving scoops from the two cartons into bowls and I looked into the freezer again. Looking in, I decided to take out the carton of white chocolate and mint ice cream.

"Interesting," Ray commented.

"Yeah," I agreed. I don't think I'd ever seen that flavor before. "Want to try it?"

"Sure," he agreed.

Amy saw the carton and hummed. "Colin? No…"

"Cass brought it a few days ago," Bruce Wayne explained. "She wanted to pick up something."

"Huh."

Amy served the ice cream and we took them to a table at the far end of the kitchen. There we sat down, Amy and Ray next to each other to my right and me and Bruce on opposite sides of the table. His bowl was the smallest with only a little of each flavor in it despite Amy's and my teasing.

As I ate a spoonful of the Dark Fudge, something niggled at my brain. What was it? I looked down at the ice cream. Amy was Panacea and used to by Poison Ivy; her adoptive father looked up to and knew Bruce Wayne, viewing him as a father figure; and he got Bruce Wayne the Dark Fudge ice cream as a joke when it was obviously a play on Batman, but Wayne didn't particularly enjoy the joke. Bruce Wayne had apparently brought kids back to his mansion, but it was complicated… kind of like –

"You're Batman!" I exclaimed.

Bruce Wayne pinched his brow. Not exactly the reaction I would have expected or hoped for, but given his reaction to the ice cream, I suppose it fit.

Ray held up his hands, one of them holding his spoon. "You've got me. I'll confess. It is I, the Dark Knight. I have dedicated my life –"

I looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Do you expect anyone to believe it?"

"I could pull it off," he retorted defensively.

"No you couldn't," Amy teased, poking him in the shoulder. They seemed like a cute couple.

"I'm not Batman," Bruce Wayne stated.

"But you used to be," I countered. And then another puzzle piece fell into place. "And you want to become him again! That's why Amy's here: so she can use her biokinesis to give you a younger body."

He shook his head. "Not a younger body, just a stronger one."

"Why?" I asked.

"Yeah," Amy agreed. "I know Lung's been causing Armsmaster the others trouble, but I'm _the best_. I could flood a street with knockout gas and take him down like that." She snapped her fingers. "And I've been in my share of fights as a hero," she added, annoyance coloring her voice now, "it's not like as soon as I step back in Gotham proper and get in a fight I'll snap again."

"I know that, Amy," Bruce Wayne replied, his voice surprisingly soft, and shook his head. Maybe he was right to worry though. I loved Gotham, but even I knew that over its history it had a higher than average number of mentally unstable super villains. I couldn't imagine how much it must have sucked to be in his and the now-Red Robin's shoes back then. Actually, Red Robin was probably Tim, her foster father. Double ouch.

"He's here because of Batman," Bruce Wayne continued, his voice authoritative again. "He wants to destroy Batman as a symbol. Society is built on ideas that people believe in and strive for, and symbols are the representations of ideas. They have power. I always intended Batman to be a symbol, to inspire fear in criminals while I worked with the police and the DA to cleanse corruption in the city and used my wealth to improve the quality of life in Gotham and elsewhere. He would be the symbol that protected Gotham in the night while a new day dawned for the city as people worked to remove the sources of desperation that caused people to turn to crime in the first place.

"I may be retired, but as long as I live I won't let him or anyone else destroy what I've worked to build: a better Gotham, where people don't have to be afraid when they walk down the street. It isn't perfect, but it's far better than the city of my youth, overrun by gangsters and the mob. Batman is a part of that, it's what started this and I'm not going to allow criminals to think that they can get away with defeating the Justice League, the police and the PRT. Parahuman warlordism is where that leads and I won't stand for that. I need to show that the symbol survives, and that's why it needs to be me."

I suppose that made sense, and fit the way that the original Seven were larger than life: to a certain extent they were _meant_ to be so. But still…

"You could get Dick or Tim to do it," Amy countered.

"They're busy with their own cities and their own work," Bruce Wayne countered. "I don't need them to do this."

"You were always stubborn," Amy muttered. She sighed. "Well, I was going to help you anyway. Just don't get yourself killed when you meet Lung for your little showdown, alright? We can only stay here for the day before we have to go on to Uganda."

Bruce Wayne gave her a disapproving look.

"Don't be like that," Amy replied to his silent statement. "You like being prepared for everything, but even I know that sometimes you're too reckless." She paused. "…Like against me…."

Bruce Wayne scowled. "I'll be fine."

I guess he didn't like thinking about that. I wouldn't either, in his shoes.

"Good," Amy replied, "because if you aren't I'll get Constantine to open a portal to wherever the hell you end up so Tim and the rest of us can kick your dead ass." She turned her glare at me and pointed with her spoon. "And don't you get yourself killed either, got it?"

"I won't," I promised.

"Good, and you should probably tell your parents and join the Wards or something if you're going to keep being a hero," she continued.

"She's a daughter of two members of New Wave," Bruce Wayne said before I could. "She'll create a public super hero identity and joining their team."

How did he know that? Just because he was Batman? I remembered reading an old PHO thread about the old heroes and the fact that Batman never gave a straight answer for what his power was, and one poster described it as: 'He can do anything. Why? Because he's Batman, that's why.' Speaking with him made me think his knowledge was probably either due to a Thinker power or obsessive paranoia like some of the posters suggested. Or maybe both. I could easily imagine the man in front of me collecting data on everyone and never forgetting a face, even if it contrasted with his smiling appearance at the charity events we'd both been at. Then it occurred to me that those same events were where he likely remembered me from, and I felt like an idiot.

"Oh? You're in a cape family?" Amy asked me.

"Yeah," I confirmed, "a bit like you, I suppose." Except for the whole psychotic break induced villainy, or at least I hope so. Talking with her like this made me forget that she had briefly been one of the Gotham's more infamous villains once upon a time, which was quite a feat considering its history.

"Well, if you're like me, then you probably made up costume designs," Amy said, leaving it open ended so that I could take the lead.

"Yeah," I said, _Glory Girl, an awesome super heroine that everyone would love_. _Seems like a stupid idea now_. "I don't have any good ones though." I looked down at my bowl, pushing the melting ice cream around in it. I wasn't really sure of what else to say.

"I'm sure you'll think of something," Ray said encouragingly.

"Yeah," I replied. A half-formed idea tugged at the back of my mind. "I think I just might."

* * *

 _ **By Star's Fire #2**_

Cover: A dust covered, effeminate teenaged boy with messy dark hair and dust covered and torn dark clothing tumbles through the air surrounded by a nimbus of green light. His eyes are wide and his mouth is open in a scream. Trailing behind him in an arc is faint greenish light. Below is a residential street with parked cars on either side of the street. In the street, a blue sedan is stopped with the driver looking up at the boy in shock.

+JLL+

 _Everything was dark and hazy. All the light had been chocked by smoke and ash and a dull, indistinct but somehow warbling roar permeated the darkness. But that wasn't all, overlaying everything was a layer of green, as though I was looking through a filter. Through all of that I saw intense light that was visibly red even through the filter-like effect. It was hard to tell what exactly was the source of the light, with the way the smoke and haze shifted one moment it was a single glaring red light, then two side by side, and then four with two vertically arranged pairs beside each other and then a thick tendril of smoke passed over the figure and it was back to an even more indistinct red glare._

 _"Is that really the best you can do?" a sinister voice as cold as death and as smooth as a knife in the back asked. "A pity."_

 _Then there was a flash and everything was pain._

+JLL+

I gasped and my eyes flew open. I was lying on my back and I felt something pressing down on my abdomen hard. Surprisingly enough, the sky was clear. Wait, why was I looking at the sky? I'd been inside just a moment ago. Then I realized I was surrounded by rubble, with smoke rising from bits of what used to be our house.

I could feel the energy within me smoldering at my surprise, and then I looked down at my body. There was a large wooden beam along with pieces of wall and a broken armoire that must have fallen down from the second floor. I was being crushed and I could feel the pain in my lower body. I was going to die after getting super powers and blowing up the house.

I panicked, and desperately tried to push the rubble away as the energy inside me reacted by flaring up. The thick beam shifted, causing me to pause in shock.

Then I heard ominous groaning and pushed even harder, putting everything I could into getting out, and the energy inside me lashed out in reaction with an explosion of green light.

Surprisingly enough the light didn't blind me, well the bright green energy _everywhere_ made it hard to see what was happening, but my eyes didn't hurt or even strain in the glare.

Instead I got to watch in mounting horror as the blast blew away the debris on top of me, only to destabilize the rest of the building. For one moment it seemed like the remains of the house were falling in slow motion, and then the pile of rubble came rushing down at me.

I admit, I screamed as I desperately _needed_ to get away. There was another flare of the energy within me and I flew head first into the broken concrete of the basement wall behind me.

I cried out in shock as much as pain and clutched my head as tiling from the ground floor buried my feet again.

That was when I started to get annoyed. "Stupid powers, keep knocking things on top of me." I lashed out again, but the energy blast was much more diffused than before. I scowled and tried to kick my feet free out of stubborn determination and spite for the stupid inanimate objects keeping me down as much as anything.

The mostly broken tiles actually shifted and I was able to stagger to my feet. Everything still ached, especially my feet and head, but luckily nothing seemed broken.

"I'm a brute," I muttered to myself in realization. Then I looked at the pile of rubble that had fallen on me just moments ago. "No duh."

I realized that the ringing in my ears had only been there when it started fading. Realizing that my hearing was fine sent a thrill of elation through me and my power flared up in response as I grinned.

"Okay, my powers are awesome," I decided.

The pile of rubble surrounding me shifted slightly as a wet pipe slid down beside me.

"Hope this place is insured."

As if on cue, that was when I picked up the sounds of sirens in the distance. I wasn't absolutely sure where they were going, but I could take a guess. The house that just exploded in a flash of green light was certainly out of the ordinary, at least in Montreal.

That will cause problems for my family, after all police and super heroes coming to our house after it just blew up is going to be a problem.

I look at the rubble because there isn't really much else to look at from my vantage point in what's left of this part of the basement.

Right, they might have a few other problems as well, like being buried under rubble. Well, not all of them, but a few at least.

I just… did I just kill father, Cherie, Guillaume and Nicholas?

I had super durability now, but they didn't. That rubble and the explosion that created it couldn't have been good for them.

I was torn. They'd done nothing but cause shit for me my entire life… but they were still my family. I never really knew anyone else.

Should I try to help them?

I focused on the pile of rubble. After I had passed out in the explosion and had that weird dream, the ceiling and walls must have collapsed on everyone. They probably weren't alive, especially not father since he would have ended up being hit by my explosive blast, buried under rubble and then hit by the blast I used to get free. Oops.

Guilt waged war with resentment and satisfaction, while both were ambushed by apathy.

Others _might_ be alive, but they were all jerks.

On the other hand, if I did save them I would get to rub it in their faces…

I sighed and started shifting rubble. It turned out I was strong enough to easily pick up and toss away most pieces of rubble up to the about the size of my chest, or Cherie's since they were close to the same. I made a note to say to her that if she survived.

I managed to shift the pile of rubble to what used to be the left of the room, where Guillaume had probably gone. It wasn't exactly tiring, but it was stressful when moving a piece caused a chunk of wall to slide down over the mound I had been clearing.

And on top of that, the sirens were getting closer quickly. I wasn't sure how the police or the heroes would take me killing my father and probably the others as well. I scowled and looked around as nervousness burned within me, literally, given the energy within me.

Maybe I should just leave them and let the firefighters dig them out?

The sounds of sirens kept coming closer.

Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.

Okay, so I needed to get out of here, and I was able to launch myself away from the rubble earlier. Maybe I could fly? That would be sweet. I felt my power react to that thought and concentrated on how awesome it would be to fly.

Even if I'd probably just killed at least a few of my family and was about to be hunted by the heroes.

My power sullenly subsided at that.

Damn. When I'm angry I can blow things up, and my power reacts to emotions and maybe thoughts too, so I can possibly fly if I think that's awesome but if I'm unhappy then I can't?

That's kind of lame for a power. At least I'm strong. Maybe I can just jump out of the basement? I was pretty strong, so it should be possible.

I walked over to the end of the crater and looked at it. It was steep and most of the concrete from the foundation and walls were still in the sides of the crater instead of blasted into the surrounding yard and neighborhood. I crouched and concentrated on how I wouldn't accept anything less than getting away, on how I wouldn't let my father ruin this chance for me even though he's already dead. I'd get away from the heroes and the cops, and I'd be awesome while I'm doing it.

 _How dare they try and stop me?_

I felt the energy gather in me and I leapt, pushing the ground away from me because how dare it hold me down!

I rocketed through the air, viridian energy burning in me as I arced through the air. I smiled as I imagined that my stupid power was actually letting me fly, and the power within me flared. Feeling its strength grow, I pushed it out and behind me and I shot forwards and upwards, casting green light away from me as I used my power to catapult myself up.

The sudden jerk as I suddenly accelerated caught me off guard and I opened my mouth to scream as I started to tumble uncontrollably through the air. Panic and energy built up inside me and as I fell towards the street. Fear coursing through me, I sent out another burst of energy towards the ground and a green blast shot out towards the ground, exploding in front of a parked car.

The blast knocked me through the air and I hit the wall of the house that it had been parked in front of. It hurt, but the fear burning inside me gave me the energy and focus to stand up, clutching my head with one hand and propping myself up against the cracked wall of the house with my other hand.

Okay, so using my powers to get out of there wasn't a good idea. Running sounded good.

I took an experimental step forwards, and when I didn't immediately fall over, I took another.

The sirens were _very_ close now, and the fear I was feeling reacted with my power to help me keep going. So I did.

Each step came more quickly, until I was jogging away in my dust covered and torn clothing. Heartbreaker may not have been very destructive, but he was still a super villain and supers ruled most crime, so the people knew that when you heard explosions and saw strange flashes of light, you got out of the way and into cover. Well, some people liked to watch and even record the fights, but most of them were smart enough to get to a safe distance first. This meant that the roads were relatively clear as I ran away, trying to lose the cops and heroes before they even knew where I was. Well, they probably did know where I was, that second explosion hadn't been particularly subtle.

Still, as long as I wasn't there when they got to where I crash landed, I'd be fine.

I stuck to alleys and side streets, doing my best to avoid being seen by the police or the heroes. After two hours, I had made it out of the neighborhoods and into the city. I continued to avoid the police, but it wasn't as big of a concern anymore as I disappeared into the city. Figuring out what to do next was.

Leaving the city was probably the best idea. Not only would the heroes be looking for me here, but any of my siblings left free would also be just a little angry. I'd need new clothes though.

Robbing a store wouldn't be a good idea. It'd probably draw the attention of law enforcement, especially if I had to use my powers. I might be able to get some from a homeless shelter or something though.

Going to one of the other gangs might be possible as well, but that would probably end poorly for me. Going to a homeless shelter then.

I looked around the alley I was standing in. "Now where do I find a homeless shelter? Wish I had my phone."

I sighed and continued trudging through the streets. People looked at me strangely, but I'd managed to brush off most of the dust by then. I was pretty sure I just looked homeless, or like a lowlife.

A few minutes later, my stomach rumbled. "Being homeless sucks," I decided.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my wallet. Inside was enough for maybe a cheap meal or two.

"Well, I guess I'll just have to steal some money then," I remarked out loud. I noticed a pedestrian looking at me funny so I turned to him and demanded loudly, "What are you looking at? Huh?"

He turned and hurried away. I should probably get going as well. With that I started off in a random direction. I knew Montreal well enough, but right now the goal was to get lost away from where anyone could find me.

My stomach rumbled again.

But first: food.

I set off to look for the nearest fast food joint. I wasn't exactly being picky, I just wanted something to eat.

As I walked through the streets, I did my best to act with casual nonchalance, playing the part of the probably homeless or lower class lowlife. With dusty and torn clothes it wasn't hard.

Eventually I made my way to a McDonald's that was next to a gas station. I walked up to it doing my best to seem like your everyday dirty teenager, but when I was walking in front of the large glass windows in front of it I reached into my pocket for my wallet and glanced around.

At one of the pumps was a patrol car with two uniformed cops standing next to the pump chatting. Immediately I tensed, if they saw me they might ask me questions or try to arrest me. My power reacted to my agitation by bubbling up inside me, though not as high as it had been… earlier.

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to react. As long as I didn't look _too_ suspicious, they probably wouldn't bother me. I'm sure they had better things to do than harass random teenagers who didn't wash their clothes. Then again, maybe I looked like a druggie. I held back a sigh. I probably did, being thin, dirty and having unkempt hair from the explosions and collisions.

I slowly and steadily walked into the McDonald's and walked up to the counter, doing my best to exude confidence.

No one was in line at the moment, so I walked around the line and up to the cashier, a dusky woman in her mid-to-late thirties and who looked at me with skepticism. "My I take your order?" she asked in a voice that suggested both general apathy and distaste.

I glanced at the menu. "Number three meal," I quickly replied as smoothly as I could.

She narrowed her eyes, likely unfortunately not buying it. "Right." She punched it in and I paid for it.

While waiting for my food, I took my cup and filled it before finding a seat near the door farthest from the police car where I could easily see the counter where my order would be put down.

Sitting down, I sipped and thought. _What do I do now?_

There were a few options. I'd blown up my house and killed some of my – admittedly dickish – family, though it had been in self-defense, and then I'd followed that up by running away and blowing a hole in a residential street. So throwing myself at the heroes' mercy was out, if I'd even wanted to do that in the first place.

Staying in town as a villain was also out since I wouldn't have any of the support of my father's criminal empire and the enmity of his enemies. It would also mean staying where the police and heroes would be looking for me.

Leaving was the best idea, but where?

It'd have to be somewhere I could make it as an independent. Quebec and Ottowa were the closest. Unfortunately Mad Mod was currently stirring up trouble in Ottawa and from what I'd heard I didn't want to get anywhere near that mess, especially since it would mean being right under the noses of the Canadian PRT and Law Enforcement in general. I could probably handle most cops now given my apparent toughness, but if they saw me they would call in Leaguers from everywhere nearby. And since it was the capitol, 'nearby' might be bigger than otherwise.

Quebec could work, but Dear Old Dad had managed to piss off Le Saigneur, crime lord of the entire province of Quebec, alleged important member of the villainous secret society aptly named the Society, and the most notorious and dangerous cape in the city. So that was out.

Detroit might also work, but according to the news the local chapter of the League was working hard to clean up the criminal elements of the city and had apparently recently managed to force out most of the local villains. They probably wouldn't appreciate a runaway independent villain showing up, and I might not _want_ to be there since it would no doubt be a Society target soon. They didn't like it when the local heroes were driving out their members and hurting their business. Then again, if I were there they might hire me to help them teach the heroes a lesson, but at the same time there was a too good chance that they would leave me to my own devices afterwards. Villains, especially the hard core ones, weren't people you trusted just on their word, even if they were part of a secret Society.

There was Toronto… but no.

I knew there was the city Buffalo, but I didn't know anything in particular about it.

Boston was a major cape city I could go to, but it had the Teeth. I'd heard bad things about them even in Montreal, so maybe somewhere else.

There was New York City, but even with Superman regularly traveling around the world most of the time, if there was anywhere that a villain was likely to run into him, it was there. No thank you.

Bludhaven was apparently a port town that had been a criminal haven at some point apparently, but I didn't know enough about it and I wasn't sure if it was safe to go to a library and check.

The last of the places I could go to and that I knew off the top of my head was Gotham. 'Back in the day' it had practically been the organized crime capital of North America, and even now it wasn't a bad place to go for a villain looking for work. Despite Batman's best efforts, it was legendary for the number of independent villains and gangs that had operated in the city. There were even so many crime and cape dramas set there that it was practically a cliché in itself. I remembered hearing something about Neo-Nazis and a dragon themed villain. If the stories were in any way still true, then it'd be the place to go. It wouldn't be too hard to join to form a gang.

Of course, getting anywhere with barely any money and a really inefficient and noticeable way to fly would be a problem. Hitchhiking could work, but it would be slow. I could steal enough for a bus ride to get close to the border, cross over and then hitchhike or steal enough for another bus ride.

That sounded best.

I looked up and noticed that my sandwich and fries were sitting on the counter.

Hungry and not wanting to let them get any colder, I quickly made my way over the counter and took my order. Upon resuming my seat, I grabbed a handful of fries to eat and stuffed them into my mouth before chewing and swallowing them. Then I realized that I'd forgotten the ketchup. After correcting this mistake, I quickly finished of the rest of my meal.

Before I knew it, I was out of food and still hungry. I scowled. I didn't normally eat more than this, but I suppose I'd been pretty active, running away from the law.

However, I didn't want to buy more food right now if I didn't know where I'd get the money for the next one.

I looked down at my stomach.

Then again, I was planning on stealing money later anyway. And if I needed to, I could rob a convenience store for snacks or something.

So I got back up and ordered another meal combo.

Truly, a life on the run was thrilling.

After finishing the last of my somewhat legitimately bought food, I filled up my two cups and walked out of the McDonald's. It seemed that the police had left by then, so I simply ambled off.

I didn't have any particular destination in mind, but I was in one of the worse parts of town so presumably I'd eventually run into or spot someone working for a rival gang who I could shake down with my awesome new powers. Robbing someone else could work as well, and might be safer.

On the other hand, I'd survived a building falling on me, or at least part of me. A gun wasn't too scary compared to that. Probably.

As such, I walked through the worse off parts of town looking for trouble as I sipped my colas. When I finished my first cup, I tossed it aside.

 _Littering. If you didn't think I was a hard hearted villain before, this is your proof_.

I continued wandering the city, sipping from my remaining cup as I did so.

People looked at me as we passed each other. However, No one paid me any particular attention, save for a few that decided to avoid me. Which was fine with me, I preferred to be the one starting trouble anyway.

It was starting to get dark and I still hadn't found anything. I crossed and intersection with the lights and finished my drink. Seeing a nearby trash can, I threw the empty cup at it. I missed, the cup bounced off the side of the trash can and into the street. I scowled and my power rumbled in reaction to my annoyance.

It wasn't that important though. I shrugged and continued walking through the city.

I began looking harder for someone to get money from at that point, because I'd need money if I wanted to use a motel or buy a bus ticket.

Unfortunately, the people in this part of town must have been able to tell I was hunting for someone. They all did their best to avoid me.

After twenty minutes, I sighed and looked around the sparsely populated street. There wasn't anyone I could go after, not even some shady drug dealer.

I sighed and leaned against the wall of a building. "Being a villain sucks. Who thought it would be so tedious?"

Nearby people gave me funny looks as they passed, but I didn't really care. At this point, picking a fight with the heroes might be better. I'd been trying to use my power, but even though it rumbled or bubbled or what have you when I was annoyed, it didn't seem to react with the same intensity as earlier.

Maybe if I got into a fight it would start working again.

That was stupid. I shook my head and straightened up. I stepped away from the wall and continued walking. If I found a bad neighborhood, I would find a drug dealer and be able to steal their drug money.

So I kept going. Eventually I started passing alleyways with ever more prominent graffiti.

I was definitely headed in the right direction.

Admittedly, I hadn't paid much attention to the 'family business,' but I was sure someone here was in a rival gang, or at least one of the street gangs that didn't have a powered villain. That would probably be the easiest to handle.

If only I knew where exactly to find them.

A part of me regretted not paying more attention to my father's business.

The rest of me regretted not paying less attention. I never enjoyed listening to it.

Without any idea where to find trouble, I decided to try and find rundown buildings in the hopes that there would be druggies there to point me in the right direction.

I stopped walking.

Why was I doing that? Stealing the cash from a nearby convenience store would be simpler.

Occam's Razor: The simplest solution is the best. Or the most likely. Whatever.

I nodded to myself.

I set off to the nearest store, only to stop again when I heard a distant cry. Someone was calling out for help. They couldn't be too far for me to hear them like that over the sounds of the city. They were probably being mugged or something.

I tilted my head to the side in thought. Should I help?

Why was I considering this?

I thought back to earlier today, of Guillaume, Nicholas and Cherie beating me up while father watched.

Well, it wasn't like it was some thugs or whatever were a threat to me, right? I'd go check it out and steal _their_ money. If I felt like it.

I turned and jogged in the direction I'd heard the cry come from. I heard another scream before it was cut off. The alley up ahead. My feet took me into the alley and I stopped.

At the other end were two Newfoundlander men roughing up some scrawny teen punk.

I frowned and walked towards them.

One of the guys noticed and snarled, "Get lost!"

I shrugged as I continued to approach. "Eh. I don't really feel like it."

He bared his teeth and pulled out a knife he'd sheathed on his belt. "I won't ask again." The other guy pinned the teen to the wall with one hand around the throat and the other holding a knife to an eye.

"Thanks for letting me know," I replied as I got within five meters of him. I felt my power build up in anticipation.

The first thug tensed in uncertainty. I think he could tell something was off. Maybe it was the greenish glow apparently coming from my eyes.

My mouth curled into a smile. I held up a hand and clenched it into a fist, pushing energy into it. Green light started building up around my hand.

His eyes went wide and he took a step back.

"Don't you know it's impolite to threaten people?" I asked him.

He didn't answer. Instead he took the opportunity to turn around and start running.

I punched at him with my glowing hand and released the energy building up there. It shot out and a bolt and hit him with a flash and a concussive blast that knocked him tumbling to the ground.

I kept walking forwards and aimed my fist at the other guy. As it started to glow again, I said, "Let him go."

The second thug decided to tighten his grip on the teen and double down on stupid. "B-back off! Try anything and I'll kill him!"

"Do you think I'm stupid?" I asked. "Let him go, and if you kill him _I'll_ kill _you_." The light around my fist grew bright enough to cast his face in green as I stepped closer. The first thug started to get up so I pointed my other hand at him and said, "No." He stopped moving. It was pretty awesome.

The second thug scoffed. "Heroes don't kill."

"Whatever gave you that idea?" I asked, not particularly feeling like springing my surprise on him yet. "Or did you forget that cops are allowed to kill criminals if they resist? It's a fact that legally, all necessary force can be used if necessary." I was fairly certain that was true, but I didn't say that out loud.

His face turned a pale green and he glanced at his buddy. While he was distracted, the teen took the chance to kick him in the balls and twist free of this grip.

Once the guy was out of the way, I released a bolt into the second thug and knocked him into the wall. He fell to the ground unconscious.

The former mugging victim looked at me and said, "Thank you! If you hadn't shown up, they might have hurt me!"

I smirked. I had gone to a lot of unnecessary effort to save him, so it was nice to be properly recognized. Well, sort of anyway. "No problem, all in a day's work." Now to steal their money and scram before the police showed up, like a real hero.

"Good job," a female voice replied from above. I looked up.

Unfortunately one showed up.

She had deeply tanned olive, almost actually orange, skin, really long red-brown hair with some grey strands, and green eyes. And an incredible figure. First that Jade chick and now her? I should keep running into super heroines.

Oh, and she was wearing matching light purple knee high boots, wrist guards, and a one piece which left little to the imagination with the way it was a collar around her neck and a bikini connected by two strips.

"Uh, thanks," I replied, at a loss as to what to do. Something about her seemed familiar.

She floated down to hover in front of me. "So, you're a hero?" she asked me.

I shrugged. "That's what it looks like." It's not like I was going to tell the obvious super heroine that I was a villain, albeit only because I blew up a house and a car and killed my villain father and some of my sadistic siblings. If only I could remember who she was.

"That's good to hear," she replied with a brilliant smile. "Got a name?"

"Uh…" I grunted, stalling for time. I'd been too busy to think of one. I idly looked her and her incredible costume over as I wracked my brain for something to use. It had to be a good one to since it's what they'd use later, right? "…Starfire?" I suggested.

She raised an eyebrow and her smile grew. "Okay, _Starfire_. Let me call in the boss," she said. She taped her left ear and I realized that there was some sort of earpiece underneath her ample hair. "Kal, you reading me?"

There was a rush of air. "I hear you," a deep, authoritative and above all very familiar voice replied from above and behind me. It was a voice I think pretty much everybody knew. "Bonjour, Jean-Paul."

I turned around nervously and then my jaw dropped.


	7. Batgirl Beyond 5 & Night and Shadow 1

Reply to Hellking666: You'll see.

Reply to ramsay: Thank you! Here's some more.

* * *

 _ **Batgirl Beyond #5**_

Cover: I girl with long curly hair stands in shadow next to a lean, lanky man. They are in front of an open doorway leading into a dimly lit restaurant filled with thin, curling wisps of greenish smoke. Behind the counter on the left is an old man with long, flowing white hair and a beard to match. The walls of the restaurant's interior are covered in indistinct patterns and the dark booths to the right are almost entirely empty. One, however, has a silhouette sitting inside. The silhouette's left eye gleams in the weak light.

+JLL+

After Dad picked me up, we got into his pickup and drove away from the WayneCorp building. All the while, I could barely contain my excitement. Even with time to think with their talking, it was only really setting in now that I was with my dad how drastically my life had changed all of a sudden. My life hadn't disappeared to be replaced by that of a hero, it had just become… more. And hopefully I'd have a new friend after school tomorrow. Once we started driving out of the parking lot, Dad turned to me and asked, "Had fun?"

I flushed in embarrassment. "Is it that easy to tell?" I asked, embarrassed.

Dad chuckled as he drove. "You're practically bouncing in your seat. So, what'd he show you?"

I hesitated a moment. I wasn't sure I should tell him I was a hero, at least not yet, and Dick had waited to show off the gym until after Dad had gone back home. On the other hand, it was pretty cool and I don't think he or Bruce would mind me telling him about the gym itself. I grinned. "It was this awesome gym! It was black, white and grey like everything else there, but was the same kind of stuff they have in the Justice League building! It has everything: all sorts of machines, this gerbil ball things, and a Danger Room! It has these moving platforms and holograms and can be set to do anything, and there's this whole rack of cool gadgets that they want people to test there so I can use them! Well, while I was waiting I asked, and I have to have clearance to take them out, but still! There was a jet pack and a grappling hook and this staff which didn't look all that special, but I remember it being labeled 'Laser Staff,' and that sounds _really cool!_ And I can use it whenever I want! Working there is going to be the best thing ever!"

He laughed, and I realized I hadn't heard him do that since Mom died. Warmth swelled up in my chest as I grinned even wider. "I'm glad we accepted Mister Wayne's offer, then," he said with a smile. "What do you say we go out and celebrate?"

"You're not going to suggest Fugly Bob's are you?" I asked in mock annoyance. I didn't actually mind of we went there, no matter how greasy the food, it would be nice to do something like a family with him again.

He hummed. "I know a good kabob place," he suggested. "It's pretty good, but it's a little hole in the wall near the Union's offices."

I shrugged. "Sure."

"So, what did you do in the Danger Room?" he asked. "As your father, I'm a bit skeptical about letting you use something called that." He gave me a meaningful look. "Even if it does include 'laseer staves.'"

"It's perfectly safe!" I objected. "I mean, sure it has holographic buzz saws, but they can't actually hurt you." Aside from the bruises I got from the holographic thugs, anyway. I was pretty sure the buzz saw had been harmless. It's not like Batman would throw his students into an actually lethal course, right? "It's just an obstacle course," I continued over his objections, "and even if it could do anything else, Bruce Wayne won't let me since I'm just a kid who doesn't know what she's doing." But I would, soon. "I got to run around on moving platforms and climb a net. That's not dangerous, and even if it was, there's safety measures in place." I was fairly certain there were, anyway. They wouldn't sell them if there weren't.

"Well… okay," Dad agreed reluctantly. "Just don't do anything dangerous."

"Don't worry Dad, I won't do anything too dangerous," I replied. After all, by the time I was a hero, I'd be able to handle things that would be 'too dangerous' now.

I wasn't lying to him, not really.

After that we drove through Gotham's main thoroughfares, before turning onto some of the back streets. We were getting near the Tricorner Yards, but stopped a few streets away. That was likely in part because of the need to find parking. After Dad had fed the meter, we walked a block father to a section filled with restaurants of a variety of types: Italian, Mexican, Indonesian, Indian, Cuban, two Chinese and one Japanese. I'd been here several times with my parents over the years, and three times with Emma, but I didn't remember any kabob restaurants here. Then again, it was possible that one of the old restaurants had been replaced.

As we walked along the sidewalk, I looked around trying to find the kabob place, but I didn't see it. "Uh, Dad?" I asked, "I don't see any kabob place here."

"Like I said," he replied, "it's a little hole in the wall. Literally in this case."

He pointed to stairs set against the wall of a building and which descended under another set of stairs which led to a lawyer's office. At the top of the descending stairs was a small beige sign saying "Old World Kabobs and Café" in curving red letters.

I looked at the sign and the stairs, and then turned to Dad.

"It's good, I promise," he replied to my evident skepticism.

"If you say so," I said, not entirely convinced.

He shook his head and led me down the steep, narrow stairs. At the bottom and to the left was a wooden door. It was painted with a dull red that looked weathered with age and was decorated with a variety of symbols and curving Arabic script and some other scripts that I didn't recognize. What I did recognize was that this looked occult to my inexpert eye. Either someone wanted to look magical, or there was someone who actually knew what they were doing here. Magic was pretty rare, even people like Myrrdin, Zatana and Dr. Fate acting as standard bearers for it, or even Green Lantern, who I remembered was a force field Tinker that somehow used magic to power and focus his constructs. Or maybe that was just a PHO rumor I'd read. I supposed it didn't really matter.

The sketchy door to a semi-hidden restaurant was.

"Are you sure this is safe?" I asked as Dad set his hand on the door handle.

He nodded back to me. "Yes, I'm sure. I've eaten plenty of times. I know its décor is a bit… eccentric, but it's perfectly safe." He opened the door and ethereal instrumental music flowed out of the opening.

"Okay…" I agreed reluctantly, and followed behind him as he walked inside.

It was dimly lit with yellowed lightbulbs in the ceiling with curling clouds on incense from an indeterminate source. The walls were faded blue and covered in more of the symbols and foreign script, with occasional painted scenes interspersed within them. I even saw lines of Egyptian hieroglyphs interspersed around the restaurant. One of the painted scenes which caught my eye was a figure in form concealing white robes standing on a sand dune or hill of some sort overlooking what looked like a gleaming city being swallowed by sand, with clouds of it rising around collapsing towers. Another was a cloaked figure with their arms and feet spread being struck by lightning from directly above.

The restaurant itself was small with booths practically walled off from one another. The Entire right side of the restaurant was taken up by the booths, and the front quarter of the left side was similarly occupied. But, the rest of the left side was taken up by the counter and kitchen where the food was prepared with a doorway into the back behind the counter and a hallway on the customers' side which likely led to any restrooms.

As far as I could tell in the gloom, there weren't many people here, just a few booths with one or two customers inside. The only part that was clearly lit was the menu with its variety of options.

I looked back and my dad and whispered, "Seriously? This place practically screams 'supernaturally sketchy' with one of those concert sound systems."

"It's fine Taylor," Dad replied, bemused and unafraid.

I frowned. "Don't sign anything or say your name here, I remember seeing this PSA video by Hellblazer and he said you shouldn't do that in places like this. Or near lawyers."

Dad rolled his eyes. "This place has been here for years, Taylor. I'm sure it's fine," he justified. "Yes, there are rumors that this is some sort of gathering place for the local…underground, but the food's good and I've never had a problem here. I wouldn't take you here if I did."

"I should hope so, Danny!" the man at the register added cheerfully. I hadn't paid him much attention before given the surreal appearance of the restaurant, but now I actually looked at him. He was tall and thin with an appearance that certainly fit with the mystic theme of the place. He had a long flowing white beard that reached his belly and white hair sprouting from his head to match it. He wore a light blue shirt and a dull red apron the same color as the door. "Come, come!" He waved us over.

Dad walked over to him without a concern in the world. I sighed and followed him. "How are you?" he asked as he approached the register.

"I'm wonderful," the man replied. "And you?"

"I'm good," Dad replied before gesturing to me. "This is my daughter Taylor and I decided to show her this dingy old place."

The man offered me a warm smile and a hand to shake. "Well, it's nice to meet you Taylor. What's the special occasion?"

I glanced at Dad, who smiled reassuringly, and shook the man's hand. I replied, "I got an internship at WayneCorp. Nothing big." His grip was firm yet his callused hands were soft.

"What?" he asked incredulously. "You received an internship at one of the premier technology companies in the world, and at such a young age too. I'm sure you've more than earned it," he said earnestly.

I felt myself smiling. He was right after all, no matter what anyone else thought. "Thanks."

"You're more than welcome." Some people might have found his attitude overbearing but he seemed genuinely kind. The man clapped his hands together. "So, what will you two be ordering?"

"I'll have the lamb kabob combo," Dad replied. "What about you, kiddo?"

"Uh…" I looked up at the menu as I was suddenly put on the spot. "What do you recommend?" I asked.

"Well, since this is a celebration, how about a little bit of everything?" the man offered. "That way you'll know what you like if you come here again."

"Sure," I replied with a shrug.

After that, my dad paid for the food and we found a seat in a booth next to another costumer in their own booth. I looked around at the symbols and script on the wall next to our table and froze when I saw a painting of a bat flying out of a dark cave surrounded by green-grey stone and wasted plants. Was it a coincidence, in this obviously magical restaurant? I didn't think so. When Dad looked at me with concern, I forced myself to relax and offer him a smile.

After that we sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes while the owner of the shop – who I had not heard or seen the name of – cooked our food by himself. I looked around the restaurant and for a moment, my eyes caught sight of what looked like the eyes of a large cat lurking in the shadows under a booth on the far side of the restaurant, but I blinked and they were gone with no hint of their presence. Definitely magic. I wasn't sure I liked having that so close to my dad, but it hadn't hurt him so far….

Then a bell tinkled as the front door opened and a man walked in. He had an overcoat which in the gloom looked to be dark brown, making him seem to loom with his hands in his pockets as he stood in the doorway looking around. He had blond hair cropped close and looked out with eyes that gleamed in the dim lighting.

"Over here," a man in the booth next to us said. "You're late."

The blond walked over and sat down on the other side of the booths' walls from me. "Sorry about that," he said in an unapologetic voice with a British accent. "So, what do you think?"

"Not a good enough offer," was the terse reply.

"Really?" the blond asked. "I'd think the long term prospects would be better than any competing deal here, Slade."

"Wrong as usual. I already have a better offer."

"Then why'd you agree to meet?"

"To let you make a counter offer."

There was a pause before the British blond replied, "You can't trust him."

"He's been reliable so far."

Blond sighed. "You're crazy. But fine, I'll see what I can do to make a better offer."

"Good, I'll see you around." I heard the man who had been there when the blond had arrived stood up from his table. Then he said, "Try the beef kabob." Then he turned and walked out of the restaurant.

"Will do," the blond replied. He stood up as well, muttering under his breath. He stalked over to the counter to make his order.

I wasn't sure what they had been talking about, but it only reinforced my earlier opinion that this place was suspicious. I highly doubted that they had been talking about anything legal after all. Something about the name Slade tugged at my mind, but whatever it was refused to become clear. _I think it is the name of a villain I should know_.

I frowned at the thought. It felt right, and there weren't many villains that I knew the civilian identity of. Most of them were former enemies of Batman, Nightwing or the other major heroes of Gotham as I'd expanded my preexisting knowledge as a Gothamite with online research that I had conducted yesterday. I'd quickly lost hours to combing online encyclopedias like PHO, but I knew enough to at least make a few guesses. The biggest ones were Marquis, the Joker, Bane and Siberian, but they were all also obviously not the right ones. None of them were active anymore, and none of them would be a man named Slade.

Well, maybe the Joker could be, but that didn't feel right for a host of reasons. This restaurant seemed suspicious, but the man running it didn't seem like the type to just let obviously evil people like that it, even if the Joker _could_ have shown up. He was dead after all, gang of imitators notwithstanding.

There were others that it could be, but I didn't think any of them were right. 'Slade' had obviously been a mercenary of some sort, but I didn't think that any of Batman's rogues gallery had been mercenaries. There were villainous mercenaries like Faultline's Crew and the infamous Slaughterhouse Nine, but I didn't know them. Then again, I wasn't likely to know the name of this mercenary either. It wasn't like his name was a matter of public record like… Deathstroke.

I looked up at Dad and told him, "I need to use the restroom."

"Okay," he replied as I got up, "it's just down the hallway, you can't miss it."

"Thanks," I replied as I walked away, doing my best to remain calm and resisting the urge to kick myself for forgetting Deathstroke's name. If I was right, which was admittedly a bit of a stretch, I'd just seen an attempted deal between some British guy and _Deathstroke_ , one of the longest careered solo villains on record and an infamously amoral mercenary. What was going on?

I needed to call Bruce.

I quickly found and entered the surprisingly clean bathroom and entered my phone's password. Once that was done, I spent several confused minutes trying to find the contacts list as I didn't know his number myself. Just as I was starting to get fed up, I managed to find it and dial his number. After four rings he picked up.

"What is it?" he asked bluntly.

I quickly explained the situation to him. He let me finish my account and then asked pointed questions to try and get me to reveal any detail I might have missed, but there wasn't much.

Finally, he said, "Multiple sources have said that Deathstroke is currently on retainer to someone. Possibly the Society, but there are other candidates with the necessary resources. Cadmus, Hive or the Crime Syndicate if they're trying to establish a foothold on this Earth again. I find it unlikely that he'd come all of the way to Gotham in order to negotiate a job when he thinks that he already has a better deal than they can offer."

"But it makes sense if he was already here," I finished. "And what was that about long term prospects?"

"It's likely a reference to fallout from some future event," Bruce conjectured.

"This other man may have thought that Slade didn't like the expected outcome of whatever Slade's currently working on," I suggested.

"Deathstroke wouldn't want to fight an entire League chapter," Bruce said. "Whatever Slade is working on, it's something big."

"If this is Deathstroke," I finished.

"Yes," Bruce agreed. "I'll alert Armsmaster that he may be in the city. Find out what you can about the blond man without attracting his notice. A picture of him would allow us to identify him."

"Will do," I confirmed.

"Be careful," he ordered.

"Yes, sir," I replied.

Bruce had already hung up the phone.

Since I was in a bathroom, I washed my hands for the sake of a convincing verisimilitude. That and it was just sanitary, I was in the public bathroom of a shady kabob restaurant after all. Well, I hadn't expected to get started on being a super hero so soon.

As I did so, I considered what I was going to do and how. The biggest challenge would be getting a picture of the British man without attracting his attention. Given the fact that he was seated directly behind me, I didn't think that listening in on any conversations that he might have would be that difficult. However, I didn't think it was likely that he would have another coincidentally lucky conversation.

Getting a good look at him likely wouldn't be too difficult as I walked back to my seat. On the other hand, taking out my phone and taking a picture would be one for several reasons.

First, I didn't know how to _take_ picture with it at all. To solve this, I dried off my hands and started fiddling with my phone. I didn't want to waste a good opportunity out there trying to figure out how to do that.

Second, how could I be certain that he wouldn't notice me taking the picture? If it made a sound or flashed it could attract his attention. I didn't want to find out what someone who was willing to –potentially– work with a super villain would do if they caught someone snooping on them. Maybe I could silence the phone? But the flash would still be a problem. The restaurant was dim after all, and it would need a flash to properly pick out his face, right?

Third, how would I keep Dad from commenting on the new phone? That might draw the British guy's attention. I could keep it under the table, but it would be hard to aim in that case.

Better than nothing.

I fiddled with my smart phone for another minute before deciding that I had wasted enough time. Dad might think it was fine but in his place I might get worried if Dad didn't come back from the restroom here.

As such, I calmly walked back to the restaurant proper. It hadn't changed much since I had left for the restroom. Dad had apparently picked up our food however. A plastic tray sat on our table and Dad was waiting with a platter in front of him and one in front of my seat.

I tried to walk several feet away from the line of booths along the wall so that I would have a better angle on the British man. However, he had returned to his seat facing the door and away from me. It meant that unless I walked up to him, I wasn't likely to actually see anything useful.

It looked like listening to his unlikely-to-happen conversations and trying to sneak a picture with my phone were going to have to be my plan. I inwardly sighed and sat down and looked at my food. I didn't want to risk getting the attention of someone who was probably a criminal and at the very least had possibly just been trying to recruit a notorious super villain. Unless I got something useful, he would probably just walk away and there was nothing I could do about it.

Well, I could try to take something from him. But, even if the police of Justice League arrived in as quickly as possible, the British man would know about me and my dad. If he thought I was working with the heroes, he might hurt us. There was nothing I could do except wait and hope he didn't notice me.

The tension of how important and dangerous this situation was made me nervous to the point of losing my appetite. I felt no desire to eat my food, even though I have exerted myself hard in the Danger Room.

Unfortunately, there wasn't anything I could do about the British man and not eating would draw Dad's attention. I looked down at the food. It certainly looked good, a large variety of meats covered in spices over rice and with vegetables on the side. I sniffed and breathed in the heady aroma of the food. It certainly smelled delicious. As much as I didn't like it, there was nothing else for me to do.

I picked up my fork and speared a piece of chicken.

"Oh, don't worry, the chicken's good," Dad said. He was probably thinking that I was still worried about the atmosphere.

I smiled and nodded before taking a bite. I didn't want to eat fast, as that meant that we would probably leave before the blond. My eyes widened in surprise. This _was_ good, very good.

Dad chuckled. "What, surprised? There's a reason I come here often."

The old man behind the counter laughed too. "You could say my cooking is simply magical."

"Really?" I found myself asking at the same time that the blond did.

The old man huffed. "I think I've earned the right." He sent a piercing looked our way, and I realized he was looking at the blond. "More than a scoundrel like you at any rate."

"Hey!" the British blond objected. "I'm not _just_ some scoundrel! I'm a bloody important man here on important business." So, they knew each other? Good to know. Even if I didn't learn anything else, I'm sure Bruce could put that information to good use. He probably already knew the obviously magical owner of the restaurant. Connecting him to a blond British man would be the next step in that investigation.

The old man scoffed but didn't otherwise dignify that with an answer. He turned back to the grill where the British man's order was cooking.

The blond grunted and muttered under his breath, "And this whole place is the tackiest I've been in in a while. I've seen more tasteful stage magicians."

"It's my restaurant and I'm free to decorate it however I want," the old man replied. "And besides, the people around here certainly appreciate it."

"Probably because it's one of the few places around here that people know they aren't going to get shaken down by fucking Nazis while they're inside," the blond shot back. " _I_ could do a better job."

"You're free to come over and cook your own meal if you feel so strongly," the store owner replied with amusement clear in his voice.

"Bah, I'm a lazy old bugger," the blond replied. I heard him rifle around in his pockets and flick something metal open. For a moment I thought he had taken out a switch blade and a chill ran down my spine.

"No smoking," the old owner replied without turning around as he continued to work the grill.

"Bastard," the blond retorted, but I heard the metallic click again and him putting things back in his pockets.

"It's bad for your health, and if you don't care about that then you should care about the fact that you're smoking near other people, including a young girl," the owner chided.

"And I care because…?"

I saw the old man turn around and level an unimpressed look at the blond. "We both know you do, somewhere deep, deep down. Now please stop gripping and let my other customers eat in peace." He smiled and winked at me and I quickly turned back to my own food with a blush.

I ignored Dad's amusement and took another bite. The food was good, and there until the blond man said something, there was no need to do anything else. Even if it was accidently, I was confident that I now had enough information to give to Bruce that he could discover the blond's identity.

I wanted to do something more about this guy, but it didn't seem worth it. I couldn't do anything more than attract his annoyance, and the old man who ran this restaurant and was obviously magical knew and seemed to… not dislike the blond at least. So, that seemed to discredit the theory that Slade was in fact Deathstroke. Maybe I was wrong, but the old man didn't seem like the type to be on friendly terms with known criminals and villains however suspicious his restaurant was. He could just have a friendly façade though.

I shook my head clear. I couldn't get anything more for now and I was sure that Batman or the Justice League as a whole would know more about this restaurant than I did. I mean, they had to been keeping tabs of a place this weird, right?

As long as nothing else happened, I'd be fine and we would be able to track down the British man and Slade. And if they were up to something villainous, we'd stop them.

I nodded to myself.

"Good, right?" Dad asked.

"Yes, it is," I agreed.

We finished our meal, exchanging small talk about my new internship and Dad's work as the union's Head of Hiring.

Eventually, the British man got up and I managed to get a clearer look at him as he went to retrieve his food. He wore an overcoat that looked more tan than brown in the better lighting near the counter. His short hair was unruly, and I noticed that his blond hair seemed to be varied with some being much lighter than the rest. As soon as I saw him walking to the counter, I had taken out my phone. However, entering the password and switching to the camera took too long. By the time I was finished, he was already walking back. He was giving me a speculative look as he approached.

Not wanting any more of his attention, I quickly switched away from the camera and to contacts. There were only the ones that Bruce had previously put in, but I could appear busy with something else while he walked by.

I heard him snort before he sat back down and I quickly put my phone away. I looked up to see Dad watching me with confusion magnified on his face by his thick glasses. I shrugged and returned to eating before he could speak up. He didn't give up though. "Taylor?"

I suppressed a wince. "Yes, Dad?"

"Something wrong?" he asked with concern.

"No, I'm fine," I replied before taking a bite to punctuate my sentence.

He frowned for a moment and sighed. "Okay." Lately, he hadn't been very observant of things. Even though I hadn't told him about Emma betraying me and starting a bullying campaign just a month ago, he hadn't noticed or wanted to notice that anything was wrong until I had told him that Emma and I weren't friends anymore. I don't think he would press me hard if I just kept this to myself. It would probably be safer for him as well. Secret identities existed for a reason after all. They helped keep heroes' families safe. New Wave didn't have secret identities, but I didn't want to publicly reveal that I was training to be Batgirl.

Not telling him about what I was doing was a part of maintaining my secret identity. Not to mention he fact that the British man was already suspicious and telling my dad what I was doing would only make that worse.

We quietly finished our meal and left. As I walked out of the kabob restaurant, I could feel the British blond's eyes on my back. It wasn't a comfortable feeling.

Upon returning home, I immediately went to my room and texted everything that had happened and that I had learned to Bruce.

Ten tense seconds later, Bruce replied, "Understood, keep me informed if you see any more suspicious activity."

That was…underwhelming. I wasn't sure what I had expected, but that certainly wasn't it. Well, I supposed that he could tell me more tomorrow.

Nothing else interesting happed the rest of the evening and several hours later I was fast asleep.

Only to be woken up in the middle of the night by my phone buzzing. Half asleep, I scrambled and pulled it out of the drawer where I had put it. As soon as I had entered my password, it displayed a message from the Justice League Message System.

"Class-A Threat Ongoing in Gotham City: All Off-Duty Members in District Report for Active Duty."

* * *

 _ **Night and Shadow #1**_

Cover: An ornate, Gothic spire rises from a roof decorated with arches a gargoyles all in a Gothic style. Behind it spreads a skyline that is a mixture of Art Deco and Gothic high rises of office buildings. Next to the spire stand two figures. One is of medium height and obscured by a black cape. This person faces the other figure, who has a clearly masculine body, but is a looming black silhouette save for the blue bird of prey on his chest and his silver eyes.

+JLL+

Richard Grayson, a.k.a. Nightwing, exhaled foggy breath as he looked across the brightly lit cityscape of Gotham. It was always busy, but the night had always been when Gotham came alive. Even with so many new skyscrapers and remodeled buildings, it was still the same as it had been all those years ago underneath the glimmering surface. Leaning against the cathedral's tallest spire, Nightwing chuckled. So much had changed and yet so much had stayed the same.

One could always tell if they were looking at Gotham or another city. No other city had the same mix of Art Deco and Gothic architecture. That fact hadn't changed with new building being build and old ones getting destroyed in fights with villains or just torn down. Nightwing was certain that fact had to do with Bruce and other prominent Gothamites being dedicated to preserving the city's distinctive look. And still after all these years they had largely been successful. Even when the aesthetic crime against humanity that was the Forsberg Gallery, which looked like a half-finished Jenga game using a set of giant neon red blocks. Hideous? Yes. Visually distinctive? Also yes.

Nightwing, and likely others, had been somewhat disappointed when he'd heard that some anarchist villain had failed to blow it up. On the other hand, at the very least he could say that no building in Bludhaven or Boston looked quite like that. Though he suspected that in the case of Boston, Accord would kill anyone who tried to make something that looked anything like the Forsberg Gallery inside of 'his' city.

Nightwing swept his gave across the city, scanning for movement, signs that Shadow Stalker, or someone else, was coming for him.

He had been in Cathedral Square for a while now. He had learned from Batman that one should always be prepared, and that included making sure that there weren't any traps at the location of a meeting.

Nightwing could see people down in the street looking at the roofs of the Cathedral and the surrounding buildings. No doubt they knew about the meeting and were taking the opportunity to look for the two heroes that would meet there.

A part of him considered waving, but that was more Red Robin's thing.

No, better to see how good Shadow Stalker was at hide and seek.

As nice as he'd been to Taylor – soon to be Batgirl – she wasn't experienced enough to take the lead. If anything, she would likely act more as Shadow Stalker's sidekick if the two ended up partnering. This added to the need for Shadow Stalker to be evaluated. An experienced vigilante around the new Batgirl's age to help show the rookie the ropes could be invaluable… if everything turned out well.

Nightwing always found those 'ifs' to be the biggest problem.

They had a tendency to not work out the way one wanted. It was the reason that Nightwing had acquired what Changeling liked to call "Batman's obsessive paranoia." As much as being compared to Batman still annoyed him deep down even after all of these years, Nightwing appreciated the fact that without the training and preparedness that Batman had drilled into him, he'd be dead by now. And so would too many of his friends.

His HUD pinged and Nightwing shifted his head to the left slightly. A semi-corporeal shadow stood on top of an office building's roof two blocks away. It was hard to see, and without the Tinker tech in his mask, he probably would have missed it standing there against the cloudy night sky. Most likely Shadow Stalker.

Now to see what she'd do.

The barely visible shadowy figure stood on the roof for a minute, likely looking around the square. Eventually, she decided to search the square herself and jumped to the office building across the street.

While she was focused on jumping safely, Nightwing shifted slightly and activated one of his suit's functions. His silhouette disappeared from the shadow it had been lurking inside.

Shadow Stalker looked up from where she landed and looked around the rooftops again. Not seeing what she was looking for, she began to make her way towards the highlight of Cathedral Square, its cathedral. It took her seven minutes to make the journey across the rooftops and around the square, and several people below who had already been looking up noticed her.

Eventually she made her way to top of the cathedral and looked around. Seeing nothing, she jumped and shifted to her incorporeal state so that her momentum could carry her reduced weight all of the way to the spire that Nightwing was leaning against.

She was wearing a black hooded cloak and a black hockey mask, as well as black long-sleeved shirt, gloves, pants and boots. Nightwing could sense a theme. A dark, brooding, edgy theme.

Shadow Stalker searched around the spire and then scanned the rooftops once more. "I heard that Batman likes to appear out of nowhere," she said to the empty air. "Are you doing the same thing?"

"Yes," Nightwing said from right behind her. She flinched but recovered quickly, he noted with approval. "It's something of a bad habit, or so criminals and police commissioners say." His black armor was sleek and covered his entire body. On his chest was a large image of a stylized bird of prey with its wings spread wide. The image was in a roughly triangular shape. It and the silver lenses over his eyes were the only visible color on his armor.

She shrugged, dismissing her earlier surprise. "Well, it's good to get in the habit to practice…what's the word? To surprise someone?" She tensed in annoyance.

"Ambushing?" Nightwing suggested.

"Yeah, ambush." Shadow Stalker shifted her position, still embarrassed with her memory lapse. "So, what'd you want? Um. I mean, why'd you call me?"

"Well, you remind me a lot of Huntress when she was young," Nightwing told her. "You've got the crossbow and everything."

"Ah, yeah," Shadow Stalker said, shifting slightly. Armsmaster's social analytics that were installed in Nightwing's armor read her as embarrassed and pleased.

"Mind telling me why you never tried to join the League?" Nightwing asked.

"Well, I heard about the Wards," Shadow Stalker explained. "I'd have to join them and be careful because otherwise the PRT and the soccer moms would throw a fit. I want to go out and actually do something, not play nice. I want to be like you, like Huntress, Spoiler and all the Robins."

Nightwing chuckled. "Thanks, kid." He noted that she bristled at the 'kid' remark. "Normally, I'd tell you that most of our successes were due to working with Batman and others as a team, but you've handled yourself for how long? About a year, right?"

Shadow Stalker straightened back in surprise. "How – yeah, but mostly I kept quiet in that time. Becoming… uh… accustomed to my powers."

 _Did she have problems remembering words? Interesting_. Nightwing nodded. "You've done well so far, attacking gangsters from ambush." She seemed pleased at the remark, but slightly nervous. It was probably about her uncertainty as to the nature of the meeting. "However, working with a team can be safe and more effective. You haven't done well against the city's villains." Again, she was annoyed. _She didn't like her failures being acknowledged? Understandable but could be a problem in a team_.

"I told you I didn't want to join the Wards," she replied.

 _Oh, right_. _Kind of obvious_. "I know. I wasn't suggesting that. You can work with members of the League without joining. In fact, you could walk inside Gotham's JLHQ and it'd be fine." She was relieved and slightly surprised. "They wouldn't mind. Especially after your most public act, when you saved two people from the ABB just under two months ago." Surprise again and pride that quickly shifted to concern.

"Well, I'm a hero and they were thugs, of course I helped take them down," she replied. Concern and annoyance.

Nigthwing tilted his head to the side. "Huntress always did prefer to focus on taking down bad guys." _Over protecting people, and most other things, that is_. _It got her in trouble more than a few times_.

"I-I guess we really are a lot alike, then," Shadow Stalker replied, pleased.

 _That remains to be seen_. "Batman and I have been looking into you," Nightwing said. Pride mixed with hope and eagerness. "We've noticed the injuries you'd done with your crossbow bolts, and while that can be accidentally lethal, it isn't anything that can't be dealt with. Huntress, Green Arrow, Red Arrow and all the others are enough evidence of this."

He could tell without Armsmaster's software that she was troubled. It wasn't that he had even needed the software, especially since he verified it with his own eyes. But, it was good to have a second opinion even if it was software. "I'm sensing a 'but,'" Shadow Stalker said.

"We cast a wide net in our search," Nightwing explained, "and came across something interesting. The girl you saved, Emma Barnes," _there,_ a twitch, a hint of recognition of the name, "seems to have abandoned some of her previous behaviors and associations in the weeks following you saving her life. She seems to have reprioritized." Definitely worried now, but covered by bravado. He tilted his head in the other direction. "Our profiling wouldn't normally suggest such a radical chance in her behavior." He paused, letting the tension build for a second. "She your sidekick?"

Relief, followed by annoyance. "Um, yeah. She'd fought back in the alley, proven she was strong, a survivor. Later, I was passing by the alley where she was attacked one night and saw her back there. That's when I realized that she'd endured a… what's the word? A challenge that makes you stronger?"

"A crucible?" Nightwing suggested. _Moment of truth_ …

"Yeah, she'd endured a crucible and emerged stronger," Shadow Stalker continued. "That's when I knew that she could be one of us. Even though she doesn't have powers, I decided to take her under my wing, uh, mentor her."

Nightwing nodded in outward agreement. "Okay. Well, I'd recommend you two show up to the local HQ. They'll let you use the training rooms without joining the Wards, and we can even equip you with some basic gear for your own protection. If you want, I'll see if we can't get you some revolver crossbows like Huntress uses."

She tried to hide it, but Nightwing was sure that just about anybody who looked at her could tell she was giddy at the thought. "Thank-" she started to say excitedly before pausing and deepening her voice in an attempt to sound less like an excited kid, "Thank you. I'll take you up on that offer."

"Good," Nightwing replied. "Sorry to cut this short, but I have a flight to catch back to Blüdhaven and then on the Quebec."

"No, it's cool," Shadow Stalker replied. "You must be pretty busy."

Nightwing chuckled. "It's one of the woes of being in charge. Go-"

He was interrupted by his communicator beeping. "Deathstroke is confirmed active inside Gotham," Bruce said without preamble, "but he's not important at the moment. You need to go to Archer's Bridge immediately. Valefor was spotted with Scarecrow and the Jokerz." There was a pause and Nightwing was about to speak when Bruce added, "So was an empty suit wearing a mask. Confirm his presence but don't engage."

 _Shit, he's active again_. "I'm not some rookie, Bats," Nightwing shot back as he pressed several keys on his belt and walked quickly towards the edge of the roof. "I'm on it. You'll let the local team know?"

The connection was already cut.

"Typical," Nightwing remarked in annoyance.

"What's going on?" Shadow Stalker demanded. She had been following him to the edge of the Cathedral's sloped roof.

Nightwing had almost forgotten about her. "Apparently the Jokerz decided to celebrate since I was in town tonight and invited some friends."

She nodded. "Where are we going?"

"Archer's Bridge, and this is out of your league," Nightwing replied.

Shadow Stalker glared at him. "You haven't been here in years, unlike _me_ ," she shot back. "I know things, like that the fact that Archer's Bridge isn't Jokerz territory. The Merchants are there."

Nightwing sighed. "And you'd just follow anyway. Alright, let's go for a ride."

The dull roar of jet engines cut through the night as a hover jet dropped out of the night sky to settle in front of the pair.

Seeing Shadow Stalker's amazement, Nightwing said, "Working with Batman and the League can be aggravating at times, but he gives the coolest toys. Now come on!" He leapt into the opened cockpit's front seat. A moment later, Shadow Stalker jumped in the back and the jet roared off for Archer's Bridge.

+JLL+

A man with short hair and an overcoat walked through the red-cast streets of a bustling night-time city. The street was busy even late at night, as they always were in places such as these.

From behind the man, the hoarse voice of a barely heard scream called out, "It's too late. The Rising Dark's coming, Constantine. You can't stop it. You need to choose your poison, Fire or Shadow!"

The man, Constantine, turned to glare at the figure wearing an elegant suit and standing half in shadow. "I choose neither," the man, Constantine, replied.

"Then you'll die, and if you persist in this stupidity, so will everyone you still hold dear." The figure stepped forwards, revealing not a face, but a mask. No eyes or head were visible behind it, just empty air.

Constantine rolled his shoulders and clenched and unclenched his hands. "We'll see about that, Joey."


	8. Power Girl 3 & World's Best Therapist

_**Power Girl #3**_

Cover: A blond girl in a white tee shirt and red shorts floats in the air. She is facing two men wearing jeans and red and green shirts and jackets. The two are pointing submachine guns at her. Behind them are trees and overhead the sky is pink with clouds cast orange.

+JLL+

After the ice cream, I said my goodbyes to Amy, Ray and Bruce Wayne, and then I flew back to Arcadia High School. I felt much better after meeting them. I hadn't wanted to leave, but I needed to get back home. Mom and Dad would worry if I didn't come back, when they noticed.

The game was over of by now, but some people were still here even if they were all in the process of leaving. I landed around the back of the 'H' shaped building and walked around to the side door that I knew would be propped open to let cool night air in.

With the door still propped open, my… former… team had to still be there.

Suddenly, I didn't feel like going inside. I turned and walked back around the corner. It wasn't that I cared about hiding the fact that I had powers from them. I just didn't feel like drawing attention to myself there and then.

So I flew back home. We lived in a gated community across the bay from Gotham proper. The city was old enough and big enough that it had spread from its islands and to the mainland. This process had been accelerated by Gotham's gradual, though tumultuous, increase in prosperity over the past seventy years since Batman first appeared.

The borough, Newtown, held a distinctly more modern style to its architecture. People in Gotham liked to say that Newtown didn't really count as part of their city. It was too new, and its designers had tried to mold it after other cities using more streamlined and modernistic styles. All it did was end up looking generic. You could have easily mistaken the streets for those of any American city, and perhaps quite a few non-American ones, if it weren't for the few dark, overly-Gothic public buildings that I think someone had built there just to spite the borough's original planners. In fact, I think that whoever designed the Gothic public buildings deliberately checked off every single Gothic architecture cliché during construction. Either that or they stole the buildings from Medieval Europe. I personally hadn't discounted that second option.

Our home's gated community was in a residential area and set on hills which allowed us to watch the sun rise over the harbor. Sometimes when I didn't have anything else to do, I'd climb up on the roof and watch the ships coming in and out of the city.

Now wasn't the time for that, however. It was late and I needed to get inside.

Despite not being familiar with navigating by air yet, I was able to quickly locate my house and land in our driveway. I didn't have my keys, but I shouldn't have needed them since our garage door had a keypad. It would create a commotion upon opening, but I didn't mind.

As I walked up to the keypad, I saw that the living room lights were on. That meant Dad was likely home at least. Possibly Mom too, since she hadn't come to the game.

I entered the combination and the garage door slowly ground open. When it was high enough, I slipped under it and walked through the garage. It was tidy and ordered. Mom didn't like it being disordered and Dad and I didn't use the assorted paraphernalia in here enough to overwhelm that.

Two cars, both sedans, were parked inside and shelves lined the back wall of the garage.

I walked to the door to the rest of the house and pressed the button to close the garage door. After that I headed inside and entered the side hallway connecting to the living room and the kitchen.

Looking around, I saw Mom sitting on her sofa, using her laptop. Shewas wearing a white blouse and light blue slacks, and her blond hair framed her face as she watched the screen. She glanced up at me and asked, "Victoria? Why did you use the garage door?"

I shrugged. "I forgot my keys. I'll get them tomorrow."

She harrumphed and turned back to her computer. "Alright, but don't forget your keys again."

Then I paused. _Should I tell her now?_ I couldn't, wouldn't, hide it from my family. I believed in that New Wave stood for, after all. On the other hand, a part of me wanted to just avoid talking to her. _She hadn't been there_.

"Um, Mom?" I asked, nervous when I should have been happy to reveal to her that I was finally one of them.

She turned her eyes back on me again and frowned. "What's wrong?" She must have noticed something in my voice.

"I…" I looked down to study the off-white carpet. "…I…Triggered."

"Oh…" She set her laptop aside and came over to wrap me in a warm hug. "…Victoria, I'm so sorry."

I silently leaned into her embrace for a moment. Then I shook my head. "I'm… well, I'm fine now."

She stepped back to look at me carefully. "Are you sure? Is that why you don't have your keys?"

"It's…related," I equivocated.

She nodded in understanding. "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it. Just know that I'm here for you if you do."

 _You and Dad are the reason it happened…_ I thought, but didn't say.

Mom smiled. "Well, what can you do?"

I shrugged and lifted off of the ground, smiling in anticipation at her reaction. "I can fly, and I think I have some force field that makes me stronger and protects me. I'm not sure about anything else."

"So, a flying brick?" Mom pursed her lips. "I never liked that name."

I kept my smile on my face. "Yeah." I struggled to think of something else to say. "I guess I'll need a costume now, huh?"

She smiled. "Yes, and I know you've been making designs for a while now. Have anything special in mind?"

Shrugging, I replied, "Maybe. We'll see. I'll go and look through my notes."

"Alright, don't let me keep you," Mom replied before returning to her computer as I left for my room.

After that, I collapsed into my bed. I didn't sleep well that night, constantly tossing and turning from nightmares of a grey-skinned man with a lead pipe and faceless thugs with guns.

Eventually, I realized that I wouldn't be able to rest properly, so I sat in bed, thinking about possible costume designs. It was hard to decide what my costume should be, let alone my name. I settled on a mostly white uniform. The costume would consist of a leotard, a knee length skirt (my mom likely wouldn't accept anything shorter than that), white boots that also reached to my knees, and red cape attached to the rest of my costume by a golden chain.

It was a combination of several different costume ideas that I had drawn over the years, including several iterations of the Glory Girl persona that I had wanted to use. Now I just needed a name for it.

I sighed and leaned back against my headboard. I was starting to get hungry, but didn't particularly feel like getting out of bed. At least not until I had a name.

My mind wandered back to my conversation with Amelia, Bruce and Ray. Bruce Wayne had become Batman to help his city. That wasn't particularly shocking. But he'd also talked about how Batman was as much a symbol as a man, and how symbols had power.

I looked down at my hands, thinking of my first attempt at being a hero. I'd like to have power, the power to be a heroic symbol, to inspire awe and fear like Batman, Superman and the others did. That's when the name clicked.

Power Girl.

Maybe it was pretentious. After all, I hadn't done anything to earn that name, and what it meant in my mind. But, I definitely had powers, so it was definitely more applicable than Glory Girl. And it was something for me to aspire too. Now that I thought about it, there was also the fact that if I chose Glory Girl, people would immediately assume that I was going to showboat like Booster Gold was known for doing.

I didn't think that would endear me to my classmates, going from a cape wannabe to a flying brick and showing off my powers.

I sighed. Was there any way around my problems with them?

Sun peaked through the clouds and a shaft of light fell on my right hand. I looked at it for a long moment, enjoying the feeling of warmth on my skin.

Even if they were jealous of my new powers, it didn't matter. After all, Crystal and Eric had been in my shoes and they had plenty of friends. Well, admittedly at least a few were cape groupies, but still.

I lifted off of my bed flew to my door. Everything was going to be okay.

By the time I reached the kitchen, I was smiling. Dad was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the Gotham Times. He was wearing blue jeans and a plaid shirt with its sleeves rolled up his forearms. When he looked up and saw me, his mouth dropped open. "I- you can fly?"

I spun in the air, showing off my flight. I stopped when I was facing him again and struck a pose in mid-air. "Yep! And I'm a Brute."

He stood up and walked over to clasp a hand on my shoulder. "Well, I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, Victoria. I imagine you already have a costume in mind?" he asked with a smile. He was having a good day, then.

I grinned back and showed him my sketches for Power Girl. "Already finished them," I proclaimed. "Check it out!"

He took the journal from my hands and looked over my sketches. He hummed. "It looks good. Not many people can pull of a cape, but if there's anyone in this family that can, it's you, Vicky."

I wrapped him in a hug that lifted him off the ground with a combination of my new strength and my flight. "Thanks, Dad!"

Seeing him wince, I instantly let him down. He rolled his shoulders. "Definitely super strength."

"Sorry," I apologized sheepishly.

He reached up to ruffle my hair. "It's no problem sweetie. Now then, have you had a chance to experiment with your powers or did you just get them?"

I shrugged. "I've had them since last night. I can fly pretty fast, and I can go up above the clouds without getting cold. I think that has to do with my Brute force field."

I noticed footsteps coming out of the study back on the second floor and heading down the stairs. They paused momentarily upon hearing my explanation before continuing down. Likely Mom.

"How do you know that it's a force field?" Dad asked me.

"Well…" I fidgeted uneasily in the air. "…I got hit hard enough for it to get overpowered. Or fast enough. I'm not sure."

"Are you alright?" Mom asked as she rounded the stairs and entered the kitchen.

"Yeah, I'm fine now," I told her. And I was, physically at least.

"Trigger events are always bad," Mom said.

"Just remember that you're not alone if you need to talk about it," Dad added.

"Will do," I assured them with a half-hearted smile.

We had breakfast of orange juice and waffles with strawberry jelly. We talked about how I would debut, how long my costume would take to make and things like that. It was nice to finally be a part of the 'family business,' even in Mom's business was technically that of being a lawyer.

It turned out that the costume would take a few days, but that was fine. It would give me a chance to practice my powers with my family. In fact, I spent the rest of the day flying circles around Crystal, Aunt Sarah and Eric. All the while waiting to hear of Batman's coming confrontation with Lung.

Over the course of the day, I gradually became faster and, when we checked, stronger. So, I was solar powered, like Superman. Still didn't have any of his other powers, though.

Aunt Sarah of course had to release a statement that there was a new member, but my official reveal would be the next Saturday.

Finally in the evening, we finally got word from the League. Batman had engaged Lung in Memorial park and they wanted us to help them, the PRT and the police take down the gang which had gathered to watch.

Despite my parents' objections, I managed to make it there in just over a minute. I stayed high above the fight, watching for the moment that Batman might need my help. It looked like some girl around my age was already trying to help by throwing a bottle at Lung. It only distracted Lung of a moment, but Batman was showing that Panacea's help and some first class power armor more than made up for almost a decade of retirement.

By that time, the League had arrived to help the police apprehend the ABB thugs, so I joined in.

At a side street next to the edge of the park, a group of five armed with submachineguns tried to make a break for it by using suppressive fire to keep the police back. They could and would hurt people like that, so I used my sun-boosted speed to drop in and grab the first thug's gun before he could react.

I yanked it out of his hands and bent it at a right angle, sheering some of the metal components. The thugs stepped back, their eyes wide.

I put my hands on my hips and smirked. It probably would have been more impressive if I'd had my costume instead of just a t-shirt, shorts and tennis shoes, but it wasn't like I cared about my secret identity. "Name's Power Girl, and I'm a Superman type," which I felt was at least partly true. "I recommend you lot throw down your guns."

The first thug stepped back and held up his hands. He eyes were cold and constantly searching. He was obviously a veteran gang member, and from the looks of it he was searching for a way out, but knew better than to pick a fight with a flying brick.

Two of his companions didn't, and aimed their guns at me.

Not wanting to see if my newly charged force fields could take the barrage or not, I shot forward and bowled the two of them and the shocked fourth thug over. As they struggled to their feet, I pulled the gun from the hands of the second thug and tossed it into the fifth thug hard enough to make him drop his own weapon and double over.

I flew over to him and quickly bent both of the guns near him into unusability. The two beat cops nearby were already running up, so I turned back to the other four thugs.

The first, second and third were all making a break for it, the third clutching his gun in his hands. The fourth was lying on the ground and aiming his gun at me. I couldn't afford to let him fire, so I charged at him as fast as I could. I heard as much as felt the gunfire hitting my force field, but I managed to grab hold of his gun and crush the barrel before he overwhelmed my protection. However, I collided with him with enough force to send him flying back, so I used my enhanced speed to keep him from hitting his head on a tree or rock and instead direct his tumbling into two of his companions.

I landed next to the three and disarmed the last of the thugs of his gun.

"Stay put," I ordered, before turning to look for the last one.

I scanned the trees that grew near this edge of the park, but I couldn't quite see him. I didn't want him to get away, not after my total failure of a first night, so I focused on trying to catch any sign of him at all. It was hard to make out anything significant given the background noise of the city and the gang's panic at the arrival of the city's heroes as well as law enforcement, but I didn't give up. I wouldn't give up. I'd catch him. I just had to believe that I would. I was a Hero.

I heard ragged breathing and footsteps on dirt coming from beyond trees off to my left.

Turning to the cops, I asked, "You got this? I think I've got the last one."

A muscular dark-skinned one with sideburns shrugged and casually held his handgun and stun gun in the direction of the group of three. His companion, who had olive skin and a leaner build, was cuffing the fifth thug. "Yeah, bring him back here, kid."

Being called a kid annoyed me, but I didn't let it show. I shot off into the air and flew in the direction that I had heard sound coming from. Then I spotted the first thug running through the tree. It was hard to make him out from underneath he canopy, but not impossible as he jogged along.

I decided to be a bit theatrical and flew a short distance in front of him and waited a moment.

When he was just about to pass beneath me, I crashed down through the branches and hit the ground in ground in three point landing that shook the earth. Unfortunately, I hadn't practiced with it, so I slipped and hit my chin on the ground.

The thug was surprised, but he'd either been around capes for a while or was unflappable because he immediately changed directions and broke out into a sprint.

Annoyed at myself for messing that up and the thug for getting away, I lifted off the ground. My chin ached a bit from the awkward landing, but it wasn't anything major. I flew after him through the trees, careful not to embarrass myself by running into any. Even though I didn't fly as fast as I could after a day under the sun, I was still able to outpace him.

He abruptly turned at a right angle and scooped up a handful of detritus off of the ground. Continuing in one motion, he tossed the dirt at me. I had to jerk to the side and cover my eyes. I didn't want to find out the hard way if the dirt could get past my force field. With a burst of speed, I flew around the dirty and circled ahead of him.

He stopped running and looked around for an avenue of escape.

"Just save us all the trouble and give up," I told him. "You can't get away. Right now, you're just tiring yourself out and pissing me off."

He shot me a glare and spat out in accented English, "You think you can stop us? Stupid bimbo, Lung cannot be beaten. He'll break us out."

"And you can keep thinking that on your way to prison," I retorted. "Now turn around and put your hands in the air."

He muttered what were probably curses in Japanese and turned to give me his back. However, he took his time bringing his hands to the back of his head, so I just flew over and grabbed them.

"What-" he started to say before I lifted him into the air and flew up and out from the trees. I smirked when he cried out in surprise. He spent the rest of the short flight back to the cops sulking.

As we came in to a landing, he said, "You don't even have a costume. When Lung learns about this he'll find you and your family-" And then my hands slipped and he fell three feet to the ground. He may have landed badly and twisted his ankle. What a shame.

I slammed into the ground behind him and used what I knew about self-defense to twist his arm behind his back and hoist him into the air with flight and super strength. "I'm with New Wave, so if your boss wants to pick a fight me after he's done getting his ass kicked by Batman, he knows where to find me." I shoved him into the waiting arms of the olive-skinned cop, who quickly had the thug on the ground and cuffed like the rest of his buddies.

"New Wave, huh?" the dark-skinned cop asked. "I hadn't heard there was a new member in the city."

I smiled and offered him a hand. "Victoria Dallon, aka Power Girl. I just recently got my powers and haven't had my official reveal yet. Don't even have a costume."

He clasped my hand and shook it. "Marko Wells, nice to meet you," he greeted. When I let go of his hand, he subtly shook feeling back into it. I'd need to get a better grip on my strength, especially with the sun charging it. "Well," he said as his partner finished up with the last thug, "you're a mite young to be fightin' armed thugs, but I suppose bein' a flyin' brick helps with it."

"Yeah," I replied with a confident smile, "it's much easier."

"Good ta hea that youse ain't puttin' youself in reckless danga," the olive-skinned cop said as he pulled one of the thugs to his feet. "Ah don't like ta hea 'bout tha Wads going out an gettin' in fights. At least wit ta Titans they was doin' it themselves an they was types that you knew could take care a demselves like Nightwing, an Wonder Girl." He shook his head. "Dees days, da Wards're jus kids, yeah?" That hit close to home, but how much of the Teen Titans' members' reputation, especially for the earliest members, came from their iconic status, and how much from them being simply better than today's young heroes? I wasn't sure.

Officer Wells shook his head, a grin on his face. "I'd agree with you if I understood a word you'd just said."

"Well," I interjected, "I'll make sure not to get in over my head." I grinned. "That's what Halbeard is for."

"Yea, you can always trust a Bat to get themselves inta trouble," the olive-skinned cop agreed. "Anaways, youse gonna help us get dese hoolagans inta tha ca? Wes don' gots supa strength."

I nodded in agreement. "Of course, officer."

A few minutes later, the three of the five thugs were in the back of the car and the other two were seated on the ground next to the cruiser. I gave the two officers a wave and flew off towards where Batman had been fighting Lung. By the time I got there, the fight was over and Lung was down for the count.

Crystal, Laserdream in costume, flew over towards me. She was in her red and white bodysuit, and I could see the rest of our family was also in costume at the edge of the park.

She waved as she approached and called out, "Hey, Vicky! You flew off pretty fast back there. Nab any bad guys?"

I smiled and waved back as I flew to meet her halfway. "Yeah, I got five of them. How about you?"

Laserdream shook her head. "No, we just got here." She made a show of looking at the park and its environs. "Looks like we showed up late to the party though." Below, PRT with containment foam sprayers were quickly making their way over to the unconscious Lung.

I shrugged. "That's what you get for being slow."

Laserdream scoffed. "Don't talk back rookie. You don't even have a costume yet," she teased.

"I don't need a costume to be a hero," I retorted. "Like I said, I've already taken down five goons."

"But costumes look snazzy," Laserdream rebutted.

I opened my mouth, but couldn't really object. "Yeah, they are." Then I smirked at her. "But mine's going to be snazzier."

"'Snazzier?'" Laserdream scoffed, idly pointing a finger and sending a laser to hit the ground in front of a gang member trying to run for the trees. When he looked up at her in panic, she raised an eyebrow and asked, "Who uses 'snazzier' these days? I mean, besides old farts like Supes."

"Superman isn't an old fart!" I objected. "And you're the one to use snazzy first. Don't try to pass the blame off on me."

Laserdream rolled her eyes and sent down two laser beams to either side of the thug when he looked like he was going to try running from the cops coming up. She glanced at me and replied, "Yeah, yeah. As for Supes, he's great, but old fashioned. We're all about justice and accountability, but there comes a time when you have to hit hard. It's like how cops are justified in killing in self-defense or the defense of others, sometimes you have to resort to lethal force."

She finished that statement with a meaningful look at the thug below and he clasped his hands behind his head and got on his knees.

"Batman never accepted that, sometimes at cost to this city," she continued, "and Superman has always been much worse about it than him."

I crossed my arms and shook my head. This was an argument we'd had a dozen times already, but this time I actually had powers. I felt like I understood better. Especially after the alley. "Maybe we can't always be the heroes we want to be. Truth, Justice, Mercy…" I looked out across the city, memories of my first failures and successes at being a hero running through my mind. "…They're hard to apply equally, what with everything we have to deal with." I tried to find whatever train of thought I was trying for and let out a sigh. "I don't know about us, but Superman is practically unstoppable. Anything that can get past his invulnerability, he can regenerate from with sunlight. He can afford to be a symbol to aspire too."

"Even if we can never reach it?" Crystal asked. Her eyes swept across the park and its environs one more time, but neither of us saw anything that warranted our involvement. It looked like the League and the boys in blue were wrapping things up nicely at this point. "I've always preferred the practical approach to heroism. We're putting our lives of the line all day, every day, especially as members of New Wave. Even if it doesn't maintain the flawless image that New Wave and the Justice League like to present, we can do more good if we make sure not to let some nut gun us down. On the streets or in our homes."

Crystal was right, I supposed. She'd been old enough to know our aunt better before the attack. We couldn't protect people if we were killed. I couldn't think of any argument I could make for us to be inspirational that she couldn't just counter with 'and then someone shoots us because we weren't being careful.' I didn't want that to happen to me again. I knew it was cowardly, but I didn't want to find myself lying dying on the ground ever again, with _him_ standing over me mocking. It… made a convincing argument.

It didn't mean that I had to like it, however.

I jerked out of my thoughts when Crystal put her hand on my shoulder. "Hey, don't be glum. Not everyone can be like Superman, and you shouldn't feel bad about that." She grinned. "But don't worry, being a superhero can be lots of fun even if you can't go faster than a speeding bullet of adjust the moon's orbit."

I let out a chuckle at the last comment. "You're the expert. I don't know…" I sighed again. "I just… feel like I'm not living up to what a hero's supposed to be."

"Like I said, solar charged or not, you're no Superman," Crystal replied softly, "I know you've had to deal with some…well – don't let Mom or Aunt Carol hear me say this – some shit, especially to get a Brute power. But, you shouldn't get so worked up about being something you'll never attain, okay? Like Ollie said to me last time I saw him, focus on what you can do, and have fun." She leaned closer and whispered, "He was drunk and I'm pretty sure he was hitting on me, but Dad came over and did the whole Papa Bear thing to chase him off."

I leaned back and looked at her incredulously for the frankly disturbing non sequitur.

She rolled her eyes. "Anyway, we've got to go down and show off our newest member to the Justice League."

She flew down and a moment later I followed. Armsmaster was busy with Batman and the girl that had thrown the bottle, so it was Velocity and a PRT officer that collected our statements. The PRT officer was garbed in the standard ballistic mesh and chainmail, so he wasn't one of the Special Tactics Force with their almost-Tinker tech gear. Instead he was basically just grunt and I could tell by his tone that he wasn't particularly happy with the Q and A.

"So, you immediately came here and upon seeing Batman fighting Lung, you decided to watch?" the officer eventually asked, looking up from his notepad.

"I was making sure he didn't need my help," I replied defensively. "I mean, Batman or not, Lung's a monster."

He turned his faceplate towards me but didn't say anything.

I huffed and continued, "So when I was sure he had the situation under control, I went and stopped these five thugs who were going to shoot two cops and get away."

"And then?" Velocity asked me from beside the officer.

"I flew back up to look around and Laserdream came over," I explained in annoyance. I grit my teeth and continued before either could ask another question, "But, by then the situation looked like it was under control, so we kept an eye out until coming down to give you guys our statements."

The officer jotted something else down on his notepad and looked back up. "Anything else?" he asked in a bored tone.

" _No_."

"Thank you for your cooperation," the officer recited from rote and turned off the voice recorder. Velocity gave a quick nod before turning to look around the rest of the park, both dismissing me in an instant for more important things to do.

I could tell that neither of them was impressed by the new flying brick stopping a mere five armed thugs. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn't much but it still irked me. I'd risked my life, on my first day as Power Girl no less. I didn't even have a costume yet!

"So you're not impressed the new flying brick managed to stop five thugs," I found myself saying, but was too annoyed not to continue. "That's OK, I get it, I'm a superman type, I should have gotten here sooner and been able to do more... But frankly, it's my first day, I just got these powers and I managed to stop five squishy civilian thugs without hospitalizing anyone! I for one am pretty impressed with myself!"

The officer gave me flat look, Velocity a reproachful one and Crystal _tittered_. I folder my arms and glowered at them all, but didn't say anything else until my interviewers had left.

After that, we returned home. It wasn't much for a Hero's first official night, but it was much better than my first fight as a cape.

My success didn't banish nightmares of finding myself in the alley again, of getting shot and beaten. Being powerless to save myself of the woman in the alley.

I found myself waking up far earlier than Mom or Dad, and not being able to or wanting to go back to sleep. So, I got prepared for the day and went out. I flew up to the top of the Wayne tower to watch Gotham stir as the day began.

Blue began seeping to the sky, the darkness of the night above giving way to brighter and paler blue until it touched the barest traces of yellow along the ocean's horizon. Yellow began to rise up into the sky, slow enough that I barely noticed at first. As the radiance spread, the rest of the sky began to brighten alongside it as the night was gradually banished.

Next orange began to well up along the horizon. Growing thicker as the day's light built up. At this point, the brooding clouds to the north began to contrast the sky with royal purple, reluctantly eyeing the light that already heralded the end of the night and sending those that lurked in it back to quiescence. Like too much of the city, they only reluctantly accepted the dawn. Or perhaps, given their location over the Wayne Manor, they were just reluctant to give up their watch over Gotham.

The rising sun's light next began to blend with the fading night to cast more and more of the canvas above in pink. The bands of light began to grow and differentiate.

"Watching the sunrise?" a smooth, authoritative voice asked.

I spun around and gasped. Floating before me was a man clad in red and blue bodysuit, his sapphire eyes twinkling under strong brows upon an ageless face. Behind him swirled waves of crimson as he floated towards me. I watched in silence as he sat down beside me, watching the horizon. Superman. He must be here to chew out Batman.

I opened and closed my mouth. I couldn't even think of what to say.

Not wanting to embarrass myself, I turned back to see the ocean a shining metallic blue, reflecting the swelling light.

The clouds finally began to relent, fading to grey and white as we sat in silence and watched. It looked like the day had already started, not waiting for the sun to arrive.

"That's the false dawn," he said. "Daylight's being reflected off of clouds so high up that most don't notice them."

I frowned and looked up at the sky. If I concentrated, I thought I could see hints of what he was talking about, but I wasn't certain that it wasn't just my mind playing tricks on me given how little I'd slept the past two nights.

I felt like I should be saying or doing something instead of just sitting next to one of the most important and iconic people in the world. All I could do was sit there and quietly asked myself, "Why?"

"You looked like you could use company," he replied, and I started. I hadn't realized that I had spoken out loud. "I don't sleep much anymore," he continued. "Among many other oddities, Kryptonians don't need to sleep if they've absorbed enough solar energy."

I looked down at the street far below and muttered, "I wish I didn't have to sleep."

He just chuckled. "I wouldn't worry about it, Victoria."

I started again. "Wha- How?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Superman turn and grin at me. "Great memory helps, but mostly it was Bruce telling me to chase you off his property. Apparently only he gets to brood on his rooftops."

My mind stuttered to a stop again, before it clicked. _Of course he knows about Batman, he probably knows about yesterday- no, the day before yesterday_.

He leaned closer to me and I couldn't help noting how well his suit showed off his physique. _He looks pretty good for a man in his nineties._

"Don't tell Bruce this," he continued with a smile in his voice, "but Armsmaster likes to hack the WayneCorp security feeds for the roof so he can 'watch for disturbances,' which is of course completely different from brooding."

When I didn't speak, he turned back to watching the sun rise begin. Color had seeped back into the bottoms of the clouds and they had clad the rest of themselves in grey as though pulling the night back to themselves, if only for a moment.

Then a faint trace of cloud closer to the eastern horizon than the others began to brighten until it shone like golden droplets in the sky.

And then the sun rose. I felt it as much as saw it and for a long moment I sat there with my eyes closed, basking in the feeling of warmth that spread across my skin.

Finally, I opened my eyes again to watch as the sun rose into the sky, its corona growing. I didn't even wonder why it didn't hurt my eyes to look at it.

I broke out of watching the sky again when I heard a sigh from beside me. Turning my head, I saw that that Superman had straightened and floated up into the air again. He glanced towards Newtown and said, "If I remember Mark's address correctly, it looks like they're up. You might want to go back and grab some breakfast."

I nodded my head, numbly.

He waved as he continued to rise away from me. "It was nice meeting you. Hopefully we'll get the chance to talk again soon, but there's always someone that needs help." He vanished in an instant and I heard a soft whump of air.

I stared at the space he'd been a moment ago before shaking my head and flying back home. I quickly slipped into the kitchen and got started on preparing a breakfast of milk and cereal for myself.

Meeting _Superman_ and watching the sun rise with him was pretty surreal, enough so that I wasn't completely sure if I hadn't just dozed and dreamt it all.

I sighed and shook my head as Mom walked into the kitchen. No, it wasn't a dream.

"You're in a good mood today," Mom remarked as she walked over to the cupboard.

"Yeah," I agreed. _I'd met Superman_.

+JLL+

A shadowed figure sat in the secluded corner booth of a bustling Irish pub. Though it was dark, one could see his white hair and the black eyepatch over his right eye as he sat. He would only occasionally sip his drink the beer in front of him as he constantly watched the rest of the pub in apparent boredom.

A slim woman in a blue hoodie with a long cylindrical case sat down opposite him. They looked at each other for a long moment, before a raspy, ephemeral voice that sounded unsettlingly like a distantly heard scream whispered, "It's him."

The woman unslung the case from her back and passed it over to the man before standing up and walking out of the bar.

Positioning the container so that no one outside the booth could see inside of it, the man opened the case and looked inside to see a sheathed sword held in place so as not to rattle. He pulled the sword out just enough to see the green-tinted metal of the blade.

After a brief moment of silent study, the blade began to glow with luminous soft green striations.

The glow faded and he quietly slid the sword home and asked the open air, "Who is this for?"

The shadows in the booth shifted, and for an instant it might have appeared to an onlooker as though there was another occupant, one wearing a mask but without a face and empty yet strangely filled gloves resting on the tabletop. Then it was gone, leaving behind a folded piece of paper where the figure's gloves had been. The unearthly voice whispered again in the man's ear, "Here are the names. More information will be available from your contact there. The sword is for the first one on the list. She is inexperienced, but will have cape support. The amulet inside of the bronze case at the bottom will prevent _that woman_ from stopping you when she inevitably intervenes. Do not recite the included incantation until contact with her is confirmed or else she will know and escape its effects. After that, make her the priority."

"Understood," the man replied as he resealed the container. He pulled the piece of paper over and unfolded it to glance at the names. Seeing the first target's last name, he let out a low chuckle. "It's been a while since I last set foot in Gotham."

* * *

 _ **World's Best Therapist: Doc's ExSupervillains Therapy Group Special Issue**_

Cover: A coffee mug rests on the red cushion of a dark wooden chair. The cup itself is off-white with large, blocky blue letters spelling out, "World's Best Therapist," across the front. Through floor-to-ceiling windows behind the mug, a bright blue sky without any trace of clouds is visible.

+JLL+

The room was wide open, with an entire wall dedicated to floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking serene gardens. Pines, maples and even a willow tree gathered around the interconnected ponds clearly visible within the garden. Cobblestone paths weaved their way through lush ivy, bushes and flowers, and at the far end of the open space, a Zen garden was barely visible.

Several people could be seen walking through the park or sitting on the tasteful stone benches positioned throughout the large gardens. Many of them wore bland blue uniforms of short-sleeved shirts and slacks, while the rest had a variety of mundane clothing. They were all likely enjoying the nice weather outside due to the clear, sunny skies overhead.

Inside the room itself, a ring of chairs was positioned in the center of the room's beige carpeted floors. To anyone entering the room, the seats and their occupants were backlit by the light pouring in through the windows. However, some of the figures stood out with their abnormally shaped silhouettes.

"What about you, Matthew?" a woman with blond hair, blue eyes, a white blouse, a crimson skirt and black high heels asked in a bright, chipper voice. She was sitting in a dark wooden chair with red cushions on the seat and back. In her lap was a clipboard and a mug with the words, "World's Best Therapist," was clasped in her hands. "How have you been?"

"Fine," a deep voice rumbled. It belonged to a large humanoid figure of what looked like partially oozing clay slumped in metal chair that was too small for it. His face resembled that of a figure inexpertly sculpted, lacking a nose or anything more than the vaguest caricature of a human face.

"And how are the treatments going?" the woman prompted, leaning forward in her seat slightly.

The slumped figure let out a wet sigh. "They're working about as well as the docs predicted." He held up his right hand, fingers pointed straight up towards the ceiling and then watched with blank yellow eyes as the digits slumped to the sides slightly. "I heard Panacea was in town a few days ago…"

"Do you think she could have helped you?" the woman inquired.

"She's a frankly ridiculously powerful biokinetic," Matthew retorted, annoyance coloring his voice, "of course she could have. Probably would take a minute, tops. But, no, she had to go off to the middle of nowhere, Africa."

"You don't like that?" the woman asked, glancing down at the clipboard in her hands.

"No," Matthew replied flatly. "She could have helped me now instead of whenever Arkham managed to get it into her _schedule_." The woman opened her mouth but he continued over her. "And don't you go defending her; I know how close you two were back in the day."

"Matthew," another man interjected. He was tall and muscular with short, dark hair and he was wearing jeans, a short-sleeved brick red shirt with the legend, "I joined the Suicide Squad and all I got was this lousy shirt," and the twinkle in one's eyes of someone in on the joke. "You can't expect her do drop whatever she's doing whenever a sick person is nearby. If she did, then people would be constantly harassing her for help even more than they already do. Even Superman needs time to himself," the man explained before switching to a more conciliatory tone, "She'll get to you when she can."

Matthew shook his head and let out a long, wet sigh. "I know, Ethan. It's just that I'm tired of waiting for that while… _this_ …" he gestured at himself, "gets slowly worse. Even if I can't stay normal, she could at least fix most of my… issues."

"And she will," the woman assured him. "Until then, we're here for you Matthew." Murmurs of agreement came from all of the members of the circle.

"Thanks, Doc, everyone," Matthew said.

The woman straightened and grinned. "No problem, honey. So," she said, shifting gears, "why don't we talk about something else, okay?"

Matthew shrugged. "Sure, like what?"

"Weellllll," the woman drawled, drawing the word out with a smile on her face, "I heard you got back into act _ing_." She finished the statement with a singsong tone.

Matthew's mouth twitched up at its corners. "Yeah, it's for this cop procedural called _The Black and The Blue_ ," Matthew explained, "the directors and producers decided that they wanted the effects to look as realistic as possible, so I get to play most of the stranger characters they run into, like the time they got Croc to let them use his likeness."

"How'd they do that?" Ethan asked, his head tilted to the side.

Matthew shrugged. "Well, they got a cow carcass and took it down to him. They told him if he agreed, then they'd bring down another for him. He's not that picky these days and when he agreed, Arkham okayed it too. The royalties probably helped."

Ethan hummed and nodded. "Makes sense. Maybe they're hoping to make a _killing_ using Waylon's likeness."

"No," a slightly electronic voice denied, "I've had enough of your terrible puns and 'jokes' to last a lifetime." The voice belonged to a bulky figure seated a reinforced metal chair. He wore a metal-plated suit was reminiscent of a space suit with armor and gadgets added to it. The clear visor was covered in condensation before a blue line swept across it and the condensation disappeared. The head inside the suit was a pale, icy blue and hairless. His eyes were further covered by silver goggles with red lenses.

"Sorry, Victor," Ethan replied with a smug grin, not sounding the least bit regretful.

Victor shook his head. "I still can't believe they let you join the Justice League."

"Maybe I didn't, and this is all just an elaborate prank on you, Vicky," Ethan replied with the mocking smile that was at home on his face.

Victor scowled, but couldn't keep a wry grin from creeping up on him. "I remember swearing that I'd freeze you solid if you ever called me that again. Unfortunately, they didn't let me bring any of my weapons here."

Ethan pouted. "Don't give me the cold shoulder like that, Victor. Remember all the good times we had? Going out to ice skate together? Building snowmen? Getting ice cream? I thought we were closer."

"All those times were you messing around _while I was paying you_ ," Victor rebutted.

"And look how much fun we had!" Ethan continued. He turned to Matthew and said, "But anyway, I heard that you asked Victor to help you with something? Anything fun?"

Matthew paused to do what may or may not have been a roll of his eyes. "Not anything I imagine you'd enjoy, no. I recommended him for some special effects for the show."

"I normally wouldn't do something like that at a price they would be willing to pay," Victor added, "but they asked nicely and it was a favor to Matthew."

"He also got a guest appearance," Matthew interjected. "I think he enjoys the recognition."

"And what about you?" the woman asked Matthew.

"Of course I do," Matthew replied, "otherwise I wouldn't have become an actor in the first place. It's…nice to be an actor again. I mean, at first most of them just saw…this," he gestured at his face, "but they're starting to warm up to me. Like I'm not some monster, just a guy they work with."

The woman smiled. "That's wonderful to hear, Matthew! It's good to know that things have been working out for you."

"Heh, thanks Doc."

"Any time, Matthew," replied before turning to Victor. "And what about you? How have things been going?"

"It's been… productive," Victor stated. "I completed the Air Force's subzero suits with Kord Industries, and both Toybox and WayneCorp have been interested enough in my work to make offers for me to join them."

"I'm glad to hear your professional life has been working out for you," the woman told him. "But what about your personal life? How is that going? Made any friends?"

"I have had cordial relationships with my coworkers while working with Kord Industries on the contract," Victor replied.

"You should try to get out more and meet people," the woman cajoled him.

He merely raised an eyebrow. "People tend to avoid me outside of work. They find me intimidating."

"Same here, but I manage," Matthew replied.

Victor grunted and leaned back in his chair.

"Yeah, Victor, need to relax and have some fun," another member prompted. He was wearing a mellow blue shirt, gray-green slacks and yellow and red sneakers. His blond hair was unkempt, but he looked at Victor with clear blue eyes. "Why don't you come meet me and the guys sometime? Shoot some pool?"

"Shoot pool?" Victor asked incredulously.

"You need to get out there and have fun with other people," the man explained. "You're a workaholic, so take an evening off and shoot some pool with us, maybe throw some darts too. Darts are my favorite." He perked up. "Oh! And Jay said he'd be there! You'll love him, he's great!"

Victor sighed. "Fine. When is it?"

"Next Friday," the man replied. "I'll see you there, at eight."

"Where is this, James?" the woman asked. "I imagine Victor'll need to know where to go."

"Oh, right," James acknowledged. "It's called Mac's and it's on Dresden and Wizard. Great food, awesome beer." He looked back at Victor. "But you'll have trouble with that, huh?"

"Yes, I will," Victor agreed with a flat tone.

"Great!" James exclaimed. "Doc, you should come too!"

The woman smiled. "I'd love too. It sounds like fun." She tilted her head to the side. "So how have you been, James?"

"Good," James told her. "I like being able to walk around the city, and Flash comes by to say hi all the time."

"That's nice," the woman agreed amicably. "You've been taking your medicine, right?"

James sighed. " _Yes_ , doc. I know. Flash and Ethan keep telling me too."

"Taking your meds is important, James," Ethan chided from where he sat.

"I know, I know," James replied.

"We don't want you to get into trouble again, James," the woman told him.

"Yeah, okay," James agreed. "Anyone else want to come by the bar for a game?"

"I might be able to make it," Matthew replied.

"Puppy and I tend to by busy on Fridays," Ethan informed him with a smug grin.

"I might be able to make it," another man offered. He had dark hair, a dark goatee and dark eyes. "My parole officer and therapist say I should 'socialize' more."

"Yeah, I'd rather not have to deal with another lightshow at 3 AM any time soon," Ethan remarked dryly. "Where'd you get the speakers anyway? Leet, right?"

The man huffed. "What? I couldn't make them myself?"

Ethan just silently raised an eyebrow and met the other man's eyes.

The dark-eyed man shuffled his feet, shifted position in his chair slightly and looked away. "Okay, fine. I did." Then he muttered on the edge of the others' hearing, "He gives me a discount."

"Arthur, you're not making any illegal sales are you?" the woman asked, chiding him.

"No!" the dark-eyed man objected. "I filled out the paperwork with Toybox last week!"

"Good," Ethan said, "I'd rather not deal with the paperwork."

Arthur glared at him, but withered under Ethan's level stare.

"Perhaps you could work with me," Victor offered. "If you're looking for work, I would find another Tinker useful in my labs." He paused. "We could collaborate."

Arthur stroked his goatee. "I suppose I could share my genius with you."

"Hey!" the woman interrupted with sharp tone of voice. "What have I said about thinking that you're superior to everyone else?"

Arthur looked down at the carpet again. "That I'm just as good as anyone else…"

"If you're ever thinking that you're invincible or unstoppable, just remember all of the times you've been beaten over the years," Ethan solemnly offered.

Arthur, the woman and the last person, a bald man with blue eyes, all glared reproachfully at Ethan. Matthew and Victor were also disapproving.

Ethan held up his hands. "I know it sounds harsh, but it's a good way to remember that you aren't infallible. Or at least it is in my opinion, since I try to keep in mind my mistakes in our mutual career so I don't make them again."

Arthur frowned in silence before he nodded. He looked up at Ethan's eyes. "So… what do you regret?"

Ethan smiled and leaned back and shrugged. "Being stupid, some of the more shortsighted decisions I made back then. But…" he tilted his head to the side. "Getting caught was not one of them." He held up a hand and wiggled it in a 'so-so' gesture. "Well, technically I failed to escape, but I don't regret that." He gestured at the room. "This might suck at times, but trust me, I _like_ the direction my life's taken this past decade and change. Wouldn't change it for the world. Keep at it, buddy."

Arthur grunted. "Alright, alright. The great – er – I will continue with this."

"Uh huh."

"Good enough!" the woman said brightly. "How about you, Mick?"

The last member, the bald man with blue eyes, shrugged. "The shrinks 're letting me out in the gardens again, so that's nice. Not really much else to say."

"Nothing?" she asked. "Come _oooonnn_ , there has to be something."

"Well, they talked about lettin' Mimi and me see each other again," Mick offered.

"My new fire suppression systems needed to be tested sometime," Victor muttered.

Mick glared at him. "Hey, we're not that bad!"

"What about Steel and Dragon?" Ethan interrupted. "They said they'd get in touch with you."

Mick turned away from his incipient argument with Victor and said, "Oh, yeah. Dragon offered to work with me on a few of her projects. Said she'd need to set up a proper workshop here, and Doctor Arkham said he'd look into clearing out a room for it instead of the shed he lets me work in so I don't go crazy."

"That's wonderful news, Mick!" the woman exclaimed.

Mick grinned back at her. "Yeah, it'll be nice to put my Tinkering to use… well, for something other than burning buildings down."

"Sometimes that's what cha need ta do," James offered.

"True," Ethan agreed, "but it's usually not, and is generally frowned upon. Can't imagine why people wouldn't want their buildings set on fire."

"Uh, yeah," Mick agreed, chuckling in embarrassment.

Ethan sat up straight and clapped his hands, causing Arthur and Mick to jump in their seats slightly. "Well, this has been fun, huh? What time is it?"

"Oh, you need to get going soon?" the woman asked. "That's a shame Ethan."

"Yeah, Doc," Ethan agreed with a mischievous smile, "but I've got time if you'd like to talk with me like you did with the others."

The woman waved his concerns away, "No, no, it's fine, Ethan. You're free to go if you need to."

"Well," Ethan drawled as his smile managed to widen, " _technically_ I have to stay till the end, remember? Official policy and all that. So maybe we should talk, Harleen."

"I've never been one to stand in the way of standing on policy at the expense of people," the woman, Harleen, objected, holding up her right hand.

Ethan's left eyebrow rose up his forehead. " _Really?_ Care to talk about that? I'm not just in charge of this group because I'm a hero now. I am an accredited psychologist, and I'd like to give you a chance to talk to the group about _you_ since you've so graciously been asking after the others' wellbeing on what is normally your turn to talk about yourself."

"Ah…" Harleen pulled at her collar. "Well, ya see… I haven't really been up to anything interesting."

Ethan's smile didn't relent, and neither did he. "Don't be down on yourself, Harleen. I imagine you had _something_ interesting happen since last session. After all, I can't imagine Amelia would turn down a chance to see you again."

Arthur perked up at that and James muttered, "I remember her…" He shuddered.

"Yeah, we talked…" Harleen agreed, her face a bit red. "We talked about old times, I got to meet her hubby."

"Oh?" Ethan prompted, letting the syllable and his knowing smile convey the message.

"No!" Harleen objected. "I know what you're implying bub, so shut it!"

"I didn't say anything," Ethan replied, holding up his hands in a placating gesture.

Harleen huffed and turned her head away. "I knew what you were thinking."

"I'm sorry if you got a negative impression of my thoughts about you," Ethan replied, but his clear amusement put lie to that.

"You're a terrible psychologist," Harleen shot back. "You're not supposed to aggravate your patients!"

"Two things," Ethan countered, "one, I'm not your psychologist, I'm just the guy that hosts these meetings and it is in fact not my profession; two, pot," he pointed at her, "kettle," he pointed at himself.

"Ah!" Harleen cried out in exasperation. "You're intolerable! I can't believe I ever liked you!"

Ethan shrugged. "Everyone makes bad decisions." He paused and tilted his head to the side. "Wait-"

"Some worse than others," Victor interjected. "But then again, there's no accounting for taste."

"Ouch!" Ethan exclaimed, clutching his heart at the same time Harleen shouted, "Hey! Are you sayin' I don't have taste!?"

"So you actually _met_ with Panacea?" Matthew interrupted them. He had shifted in his seat so that he loomed towards her.

Harleen opened and closed her mouth before nodding. "Yeah, we met for dinner but she had to get on a flight almost as soon as we sat down ta eat." She perked up. "I did mention you to her though! But, uh, like we said earlier, there's a wait for that." She poked her index fingers together and laughed nervously under Matthew's glare.

Matthew continued silently glaring at her, the tension rapidly building in the air. Then he let out a wet sigh and leaned back. "Not worth the hassle."

"That's the spirt!" Ethan agreed. "And don't worry. Like I said, she'll get to you soon enough."

"Yeah, yeah," Matthew replied, waving him off.

Ethan turned back to Harleen. "So, Harleen, anything else you'd like to share?"

Harleen sighed. "I was just thinking about old times…"

Ethan gave her a disapproving look. "He was a manipulative psychopath." He pursed his lips. "Or was it sociopath? Damn it, I should remember this."

Harleen waved the comment away and replied, "No, not Mista Jay – er, the Joker. Well, not exactly. It's just, with Batman coming back just a few days ago, it's got me thinking about old times. Ya know?"

Ethan shrugged. "I always tried to avoid tangling with the big guns, but I ran into Batman a time or two." He turned to Victor. "You remember that time you hired me to bust out Killer Frost? Wasn't that just a year or two before you ran off to Toybox's pocket dimension for a while?"

"Yes, you could say that dealing with you as an underling put me off being a villain," Victor flatly stated.

"Good to know I helped even when I was on the wrong side of the law."

"If you want to call it that," Victor replied in the same flat tone.

"I think I do," Ethan agreed before he settled back in his chair.

There was a brief moment of quiet.

"I've been meaning to ask," Mick said, "but did they actually give you that shirt?" He pointed to Ethan's "I joined the Suicide Squad and all I got was this lousy shirt" shirt.

Ethan pulled at his shirt and looked down at it. "Oh, this old thing? Nah, I had it custom made. If they had given me one, it'd be pretty old by now. I mean, Cadmus's been using those new fibers that Kord's developed for clothes, but I imagine that the coloring would have faded at least a little over the last nine years since I switched to probation in the League."

"What was it like in the Suicide Squad?" Mick asked. "Flash wanted me to come here instead of join them."

Ethan shrugged. "They equipped me with some of their more experimental armor and sent us on the really high risk missions. Fought the Nine once, but the most exciting mission was during that whole clusterfuck with Luthor as president. I got to throw down with Wonder Woman, and we leveled a few blocks. She couldn't land a solid hit on me and I couldn't do more than knock her around and annoy her until I got the orders to stand down. I think she still carries a grudge, but that might just because I'm prettier." He turned his head to Harleen. "What about you? You joined after I left."

"It was pretty crazy," Harleen admitted. "I mean, they call it the Suicide Squad for a reason. I'm just glad I got out of that outfit." She saw Ethan raise an eyebrow and she slapped him. "You're just doing that to annoy me, so cut it out!"

"They were going to give me the option to join too," Matthew rumbled, "but they had trouble coming up with a way to make sure I didn't pull a runner. Back then, my condition wasn't as bad so they didn't have much of a hold on me. I hear they considered poison, but they probably discarded it because it wouldn't stop me from running to people with the pull to get an antitoxin, like the Society or Intergang."

"But you did join," Arthur stated. "I remember hearing that."

Matthew shrugged and his face rippled. "Yeah, when they realized that I was deteriorating, they said they'd cover all the treatments if I did my time in the Squad." His misshapen mouth pulled down in a scowl. "Turns out I finished my tour before I was cured. It was not pleasant."

"At least you're out and don't have to worry about heroes attacking you when you walk down the street," Harleen offered. "I always consider that a plus."

"Perhaps you should have taken more advantage your ability to take _your_ costume off," Victor suggested with a hard voice. His mouth was pulled up slightly at its corners. "Or perhaps left your hyenas at home more often."

"Yeah, well…" Harleen said, trailing off before sticking her tongue out at him.

"Ah, your trademark maturity and restraint," Victor remarked.

"Why are you so _cold_ to her, Vicky?" Ethan asked.

"Yeah, what's what the hostility? You really need to chill out," Harleen added.

"I know where you work, both of you," Victor replied levelly.

"What cha gonna do, bub?" Harleen asked, a teasing tone in her voice. "Gonna 'put us on ice?'"

Matthew groaned and Arthur winced at the same time. "That was awful, both of you," Matthew told the two jokesters. "You should be ashamed of yourselves, if you were capable of it."

Ethan's smirk waxed. "I may regret _some_ things, but I am never ashamed. Makes things more interesting."

"In the Chinese sense?" Matthew asked.

"Interesting is good," James added. "Well, sometimes they don't like interesting."

"Either way Matty," Ethan said, "James has got a point."

"I still find it hard to believe the public considers you a hero in good standing by now," Matthew muttered in reply.

"I did my time, got new costume and name, and I've been a model hero since," Ethan explained.

"Somehow, I don't believe you," Harleen said.

"What? You don't trust me?" Ethan asked, grinning as he assumed an offended posture.

"Nope," she replied immediately, followed shortly by all of the others except James saying, "No," as well.

"I think maybe you guys should work on your obvious trust issues," Ethan suggested politely.

"I think maybe you should work on not telling obvious lies," Harleen retorted.

"Fine, fine," Ethan relented. "It's because I'm so charming." He grinned at them, showing his practically sparkling teeth.

Victor scoffed.

"Anyway, didn't you have to get going soon?" Harleen asked.

Ethan glanced down at his wristwatch. "Huh, yeah actually. I'm going to have to call it quits early today. Apparently we've got something going on down at the HQ. Didn't really listen to what." He looked up at the others. "I mean, they didn't go into detail."

"Uh huh," Harleen grunted.

"Hey, why don't you lot come over to the HQ some time? We're running a game of Exalted next Wednesday." Ethan offered. "It'll be _fu-un!_ " he sang.

"Never heard of it," Matthew replied.

"It's a game where you play heroes power by gods," Ethan explained. "And it includes opium-peeing T-Rexes!"

"What?" Arthur asked.

"Sounds fun!" James exclaimed. "I wanna ride one! Will we have to get Panacea to make one for us or can we tame one in the wilds?"

"When she comes to heal me, I'll let you ask for one," Matthew offered as he stood. "Send me the time and I'll see if I can make it. There's a CSI: Gotham audition that day and I plan on trying out for it."

"Cool, it's at seven, and we'll be ordering pizza," Ethan replied as they all stood.

Matthew grunted. "I'll be late."

"Will Armsmaster be there?" Victor asked.

"Yeah, Halbeard'll make a showing," Ethan confirmed.

"Then I'll attend. I've been meaning to talk to him," Victor replied.

"Aww, you're gonna spend all night talking Tinker, aren't you?" Ethan asked.

"If I can possibly help it, yes."

"Talk Tinker with you and Armsmaster?" Mick asked. "Sounds interesting." He looked at Ethan as they started walking towards the doors as a group. "Can I make a character that's a pyromancer?"

Ethan grinned. "Yes, yes you can. Well, basically, anyway. With the right charms anything's possible."

"Cool."

"What about you two," Ethan asked Arthur and Harleen, who were lagging behind slightly.

"Sure, I haven't had a chance to tell Battery all your embarrassing stories, yet have I?" Harleen asked with a predatory grin.

Ethan paused. "Nope, don't think so."

Harleen's grin widened. "That's great! I'll be there at seven sharp!" She turned to Arthur. "What about you?"

He shook his head. "Sorry, I've got to finish this project." Seeing Ethan's look, Arthur held up his hands. "Perfectly legal."

"Alright, then. See you next time!" Ethan told him with a wave.

"Buh-bye!"

"See you later."

"Good bye."

"Alvederzay! Did I get that right? No? Aloha!"

"Bye."


End file.
